The Gravel Around the Edge of the World

New Jack, new shoes, new slacks

big shoulders, Chicago poems

late summer's water is warm and clear

sand laden beaches and the smells of 

burning meat that the wind lifts and plays with

we share the same girls

Billy Sunday

but mine enjoy the ride

soft hands can't do what

a working man's can

we are the gravel around the edge of the world 

pour this sweat down the sidewalk stormdrain 

work for pleasure, home is for pain

begging the Lord for a little bit easier life

this pain is time and this pain is my own

Billy Sunday says I'm going to hell

but we've touched the same sheets

at the same hotels

I won't take my religion from a man who never bled for it

better have something to show before talking all that shit