i think i will.
i want the door past political correctness, coolness and big daddy government,
past no cigarettes or coca-colas or white shoes after labor day.
i want to cough my way past the smoke and lies
and find the people with paint y life under their fingernails,
people with ideas bigger than botox and what their next tattoo should say;
to small conversations discussions gossip conjecture wishful thinking
about who's divorcing who this year,
which will change next year anyway,
and ring around the rosy
'scuse me while i kiss the sky.