Rattlesnake Canyon, Santa Barbara California November 2001
What amazes me are people who are amazed that you're not amazed by what amazes them.
Or is that just a local peculiarity? As in, local unto myself
Utter obscurity, that's what I'm gunning for. Shouldn't be that difficult to pull off
But what if...what if...
There's a dump of a motel next to the old airport that's saving me a room
The bed's worn flat-out ratty and the shower stall is full of mold
The pipes shudder when the water's turned on and the cast iron faucet leaks
Two doors down there's an ice machine that hasn't worked since 1983
You'll know the worn-out old pro Leslie's home from the stench of her perfume
Her scrawny scarred-up cat will sit on the balcony rolling a tray of Acapulco Gold
With my sorry broken down ass I'll fit in well with all the freaks
It's in the middle of a grassless prairie (but I'll swear it's near the open sea)
Most days the hallways will echo with ghost sighs, it's like a Freemason's tomb
For the dispossessed, some reprobates, a few deviants, and the prematurely old
The Polis will come by looking for someone ain't no-one there that speaks
Lotta crops in the community garden but not one Judas tree
I'll sit by the empty pool with Rayban knock-offs on despite the relentless gloom
Sipping whiskey in the noonday sun fighting a malaise that has already taken hold
Landlord might tape another notice to a door giving somebody two weeks
The alkie in that particular rathole will have the money, hell he's probably a practicing MD
Old lady Wilkinson will chase away spiders everyday with her corn stalk broom
Yard sales will be held daily but all just crap that stays unsold
From the last time the owners remodeled the place to make it look boutique
That's my fate the mystic spinning of the threads have determined what's in store for me.
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