lyrics
On the Twenty-fifth Anniversary of John Lennon’s Murder
On a step behind the Holiday Inn,
Two Russians roamed up, bummed a cigarette,
While a third snuck up, struck me from behind.
I sprawled to asphalt. Then the boot came in.
I swung through the red, but it’s a good bet
I didn’t land one. The blackout was kind.
I woke knotted in blood-ruined sheets, startled:
Smashed, stamped, and splintered to a numbed dazzle,
I spat black wads into the fuzzy sink.
One look in the mirror, my brain curdled.
I propped in the shower stall. Steam sizzled.
My hair loosened a sick swirl of sour pink.
They made off, grinning, with all I had: two
Dollars, five cigarettes, and my Zippo.
Corned Beef Hash and Two Eggs Over Easy, Coffee
I’m battered all to hell. You should see me.
I’m in the corner of a bright diner,
The very one from Suzanne Vega’s song.
Every time I limp to the john to pee
The whole crowd stares at my glaring shiner.
My whole face: swollen eggplant. Before long
I will try to remember what happened.
Memory is just a haunting of ghosts,
And the night is crushed below like eggshell.
In the ER the doctors pretended
I would be fine, and they were quite good hosts.
They stapled my head back together well.
I am sinking on a soft black balloon,
Dreaming of the break. It is coming soon.
credits
license
all rights reserved