Home Town

Sing in the rain to suckers other than you who tip outrageously for the sake of good service.
Don't obscenity in the milk of good fortune, just shoot the fucker and be alright with yourself like I am with a fistfull of Sharpies.
Be envious of ink-brush students who turn weeds into fields of ladies, waving and willing.
Walk around your town and eat the bricks and the trash and the sidewalk sofa with the cockroach icing and a side of rats.
After all this, when you're done walking all over your own back, you can hunker down in your corner of the cage and say,
"Maybe tomorrow I'll get myself measured to see if I fit through the bars."