Porto Morgado

Burning money like the slobs
in Les miserables
priceless works of arts
Grant, Jackson even Lincolns
rolled up and put away
hidden under tables
next to Safeway cards
burning a hole in the noses of Folsom street
playing pool in the leather bars
searching for that far out anodyne
house parties until dawn
numbies and mustache rides
starlight sunsets on a silver platter sighing,
one by one the friends come by
ripping interpol
the lines they go by
not watching, numb, above the world
sitting, thinking
staring, licking
light bulb fantasies of a good idea
cosmic far out gangsta jive
11th street vision quest
inner city diatribe
blowing in is easier then blowing
up
freedom is a Franklin and an alibi