Old buildings with their lag tired sag focus in off the horizon,
that grand old Mississippi frost nippin’ ‘n wave lappin’ it’s cranky course.
Hopped right off the plane–
worked eight hours cuttin’ ‘n paintin’ ‘n all them there-abouts
to buildin’.
Brick-front buildings that have had more jobs than occupants,
everything repurposed or abandoned,
ain’t anything, ain’t anything like it planned.
that flop-haird blonde in the bathroom,
–his week-old stubble under finger-tip
don’t hide his soft lips.
That five foot brunette in the back alley,
–all tongue and need,
don’t know if it’s for him or me.
That woman I know as someone else’s fling.
Been here since Wednesday:
Worked 29 hours,
Drank at least 12 beers,
1 shot of tequila,
1 shot of 191 proof rum,
1 shot of Rumchata,
1 shot of Fireball,
2 packs,
4 glasses of Whiskey,
5 dimes.
Old buildings with their lag tired sag,
lit up in the frigid night,
‘n ain’t it just beautiful.
Welcome to Iowa.
