As I reach into the bedside drawer
the kind you find in rented rooms
looking for the last of my pot
the silver double barreled concealable
.22 magnum gamblers derringer stares at me accusingly

It knows what's been going through my mind
it knows I just paid $170 worth of food stamps
for the $90 room
that there’s no money coming for a month
that in a week I’ll be out of the room
that right now I’m out of smokes
haggling with the manager
over rates of food stamp exchange
I missed last call at the soup line
and won’t eat until tomorrow

And just thinking about waking up
without a beer without a cigarette
to at least stall facing the day
I won’t be able to handle it
I’ll pick his shiny concealable ass up
And start blastin’ away like Yosemite Sam!
I’ll climb out onto the fire escape and scream
I made it to the top, Ma, I made it to the top!

And then I woke up
mild shakes but not too bad
and I did have a cigarette
in fact I had three
and there were still five black labels in the iceless cooler

And, yup, you guessed it
The sun was sittin’ high above sixth street
making even Wheelchair Willie with his knit hat
thrift store blazer all the time holding an empty 40 ounce ass smile

I knew then that everything would be all right
I knew then that once again I was home