HOW DOES THIS HAPPEN?
So, Jeez, I didn't have track of the time,
and this hillside just kept me sliding,
and the grass was slick, wet, with
cars down below. I had to secure
myself from sliding.
I hate discipline; people in straight
lines and everything by the book. I
guess I was born a wild man, a tax
cheat, an hombre, a crook.
If I see a fence, my first impulse is
to jump it - the other side has another
side too. And I grow tired of this
heavy, antlered, head.