MY MIS-SPENT YOUTH
So, looking back, it's all been a waste
of time, really. Figure it for yourself,
the two extremes : a national anthem,
or reading existentialism while sitting
on the toilet. This Woody Guthrie guy,
'Bound For Glory,' he wrote. Bound
and gagged reads my own version.
What's become of anything - secrets
of the purloined factory feel, that girl
Lydia, working the drill-press nearby;
the immigrant guy from Moldava, he's
now parking cars, the valet, at Chircio's
Steakhouse and Cantina. What a mix
is all this. A six-foot Russian national
parking mostly Japanese cars at a small
restaurant serving beefsteak and tacos.
The road calls; at least the shitty highway
is as American it can be. Starbucks.
Subway. And Seven-Eleven.