Steaming roll of San Francisco soul
Cheap and common, easy breezy, it's
Becoming
Lazy in my fattishness, complacent
In my ease
It's time to return to the places
I've never been
The plastic rose in the long lapel of
The road smells sweetly of limousines
Not driving by, and my not flying
From one flat to the next at the
Behest of national media coverage
And intrinsic moral debt
It's a Chinese buffet in Texas, this
Modern country of mine, and
I'm letting my meat settle before I
Attack it again
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