Fifteen hour day: over at last. Driving home in the headlamps. Nametag safely hidden in the center console. Satellite radio. Blue ceiling light. Jerry Garcia tells someone that if he had a shotgun -
he'd blow them str8 to hell.
Deer on the manicured lawn of the Chase bill collection center.
Grass finally green again. Dark on the dark earth.
Late night busses. Cars.
Tired faces on the corners. 
The band goes oooooooh ooooooh oooooh. The audience cheers. A concert from 1975. If the fans are still living, many are in nursing homes.
The bar parking lots are full. Shiny cars. Shitty cars. The cops.
I want to go home and get high.
I want to forget every moment of my life up until this one.
I want to slide inside you, sweet babygirl. And feel your long fingers on the back of my neck and head.