I went to the beat museum
but they wanted $8.
$8 of my hard earned money
$8 of my cracking eggs for the people on the sidewalk
$8 of slicing peppers and peeling onions in a truck
inside another truck
$8 of my eyes weeping as I slice
For $8 I could buy a roll of paper
or a typewriter ribbon
that would unroll my blood, sweat, and tears
down Woodie Gutrhie's ribbon of highway
in this, MY land
of earth, wind, and fire
all the way home.
I stand with my hand out
on the sidewalk.
Not asking for eggs, or egg money or pin money or pin numbers
Not asking for a lower tax rate or higher fences
or to sanctify gay marriage or to marry a sanctimonious bastard.
to see some beats.
I'll gladly pay you on Tuesday for the beat museum today
Can I borrow $8, man?