Everyone knew his mother was a whore and they just got by. The Shell station sells Taquitos hot from the roller grill. An orphan of the liquor store Big Cup Dixie Fried Apple Pi. They’d fry anything. In a Econo-Motor Speedway motel room. A portal to another time. Sour worms. Where he could make twice what she did. Plan B was to set the sails for Bakersfield by Weed Patch. Across the sea deceived by distance, this wind will sweep your rooms. That and a tit times two. Oyster shell parking lots and just anonymous. The day with its head of mania howling and memory may not be the way, you remember it, I remember it, and the season was dragging all the poets through the fields drinking jack straight from the bottle.