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Down in the park
Sit and spin.
We are plugged in for yet another seemingly endless night.
Our bodies rippling in glorious oblivion.
Our nosebleeds slide down the slides and
we crack open our 40s in the swings.
Around here the film of burning eyes, stolen cans of tuna and blocks of
sharp cheddar cheese are openly condoned.
We were the big fuck you.
Tomorrow never came for us.
We were never far from spinning records backwards and never missed
an opportunity to feel as good as twenty five dollars would allow.
Ray Strickland jr.
April - 1990
