1. Tuesday, February 17, 2004

    sorry, we’re open 

    mick kelleher rides his bike through the detroit suburb

    with a tshirt that says iowa

    and his two year old behind him in a kiddie seat.

    hes nearly forty now and as skinny as he was when 17

    i think about how he warmed

    the bench for the Flubs in the 70s and

    he thinks that life is grand and i wanna die

    i wanna have my skull crushed in a trash disposal unit

    one whose walls close and metal squeals and wood snaps

    and guts spews the cubs werent shit with him

    and im not shit without you.

    the fellas across the street sit on the abandon couch fat

    drinking the new flavor of budweiser

    talking about lots of people but not skinny number twenty

    lie about lots of girls but not you

    this girl had most of her hair shaved down there

    better eyes well differnt at least

    soft skin yawn

    and even she talked of you

    mick knows im a fool

    and where are these destructo fields

    where you walk on a blade of grass

    and it slices you

    where is this place called peace

    where can i get more than a piece

    i wanna quit young like mick

    i wanna be your top draft pick

    i wanna fuckin have it now

    i wanna see the holy cows

    bastitch + sahalie + annika