I got suggested some cocaine tonight,
“hey man how’s your night,”
“it’s alright, be better when I get my smokes”
“but it’d be better still if you got some coke, am I right?”
“nah, I’m feelin’ a little more chill than that.”
but I listened to the man,
got a Cherry Coke and a wine flavored Black and Mild,
wood tipped of course.
comes to $3.02
I pay in quarters.
I’m barrel-scrapin’ thin on income,
“sorry about the quarters, ma’am,
it’s a few days until payday,
you know.”
gettin’ by on appropriated Southern horse-rode-swagger.
didn’t used to call ‘em smokes,
didn’t used to lie with a smile ‘n a twang,
picked those up from blue-collared workin’ men,
between their casual racism
and practiced sexism
and hereditary homophobia
little gems to help in the gettin’ by.
call women ma’am,
it’s non-sexual and semi-respectful without makin’ ’em sound old
keeps ’em from noticin’ that you haven’t paid yet,
that you’re countin’ up quarters,
that all you’ve got is quarters and you’re just damn glad you brought enough,
because that kid’s outside,
and he’s drunk with his friends,
and you know too many hate crimes start with that beginning,
with drunks sidlin’ up out of alleys with a group of their friends,
“how are you doin’ tonight boy?
we heard you might be a fag.”
So you swagger,
call ’em smokes,
smile ‘n lie that you’re gettin’ paid soon,
and hope and hope and hope–to–god they’ve moved on by the time you leave,
you may be a mean cuss,
but four on one ain’t a fight you can win.
but good ol’ boys,
they ain’t never fags.
they don’t ever read papers ‘n cry at the black-blue faces of young–
men comin’ home from parties.
Call ’em smokes.
Lie with a smile ‘n a twang.
Things that help in the gettin’ by.
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