I have been thinking where the moon meets the streetlamp,
Upon dusty pavements cold and decorated with the art of boot heels
That this life I am living is fit for the cat to chew,
For the dog to chase down avenues thick with odorous garbage,
Along the hustled corners where cab crews stand waiting fares
And widows begging their aging flesh to stop as they chew their gums,
Their gnarled bones forming antique art shapes,
This is not the run in to a better day;
This is not the rehearsal for the main event;
This is my day, this here and now.
.And no matter the where’s or the why for’s,
This one life is my ticking time piece.
Russell Cuts the Corn From The Brewers Whiskers.