my travel hand has waxed a bit callow

Left Atlanta practically in rags, walking north along the breakdown lane in the pale winter sun
Will be briefly returning in a Macy's sportcoat, shoes freshly shined
Still though will be looking out for what
Master Shin Yan Ming calls the special water

got no time for bad poetry this morning yet here I am
because I when I creeps to the coffee machine I creeps
alone and today there's a crowd

of normal people and that aint me

got to get back to this page tonite I hope
so I can tell you what happens in our tale's latest episode
or fill in what has happened

Sometimes --

ah, fuck it. more later