graceland

Sitting on the free library computer
Posting pictures of poster kids from '67
you can't be a ranch hand, tourist, or rock god
as you nod your head inside it's space
tracing the lyricism of a cynical mysticism
past the opened graces of some little mistake

And I can't pardon any unintended or open-
ended recitations of last nights stagger brained
hair tied black eyed egg beater
It's a meter off the ocean floor and made of cedar
chips and blinking lights.  it's a garbage dump baby
and I came out here to hump it to freedom.