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Field Report
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Chico The American
We were martyred in the homes of our friends on a hard drinking decade of weekends convinced that we were firing our lasers to the surface of the moon
retreat to all the noise, out to the places that we would go pound that pus-y, bloody cyst off with a weather-treated two by four
praying for the singularity coming for to carry you home one-time hero forgotten how to carry your given load
hey, hey, Doris Day send my love for me now please, please, Glen Shirley, say hello for me now to Chico the American. Chico the American taught me to drink clear which ushered in the Age of Gin and lead to the Gimlet Years. When he lobbed that crystal tumbler through the glass cooler door past the blues band in the strip mall with a barrel-chested roar it was just as funny- but less blood- that the '62 Dakota war praying for the singularity coming for to carry you home hey, hey, Jon Benet send my love for me now please, please, Dom de Louise say hello for me now to Chico the American.
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