I spent two hours last night listening
to Cool Hand Luke singing “Plastic Jesus.”
What’s that in my head? It’s a sound, it’s not
really a sound in the world. I’m going
to leave work now and drive to my parents’
house and probably I’ll start drinking when
I get there. There’s a lot I’d like to know
and even more I’d really like to explain.
There’s nothing on the dashboard of my car.
I have this vague sense everything’s going
to shit, but it’s unsubstantiated.
And what of it if it is? Lonely heart,
you won’t regard me from the bad prison.
I gave you the hours when I got them wrong.