Not Our Kind

In the heat we burn for Pepsi dangle feet from crick docks Traipse with garage ice to cheap motels, watch a tv that's chained to a wall, go home thinner then we came. Poor possessions, pay-checked and broke by Monday. Trailer bred, no stock, just scrawny chickens, free range ornery strays, front yards overgrown with ever grounded flamingo's. In the cold we work on beat-up trucks hoody-up, slap oily knuckles together patch-up holes in our walls. Go tree coons, play around separate, divorce, but never leave. Break open bar fight bottles, chug-a-lug through the night by a space heater’s eerie light. We are not your kind, we got a right to be low, slow to show our sickness our nearness to workaday dirt. You who drive by radios in your head masking your hollow conditions, you keep on down that dusty road go find your own damn tumbleweed roots.