A Note From Willy
Oh, mundane America
home of the free
I let you embrace me
I let you rape me
And yet I walk your streets with the sway of an old house song
I'm tough
Cloaked in capitalism and Jesus
I know your ways
All starry eyed and wet
Finger marks across your neck
Brown Boys in the border towns dressing up
in Polo Sport and Abercrombie
As a flashing sign that they too are America
Your grip is tight
Your tongue is dangerous
And still I walk with the spec of a freshly faded hair cut
I’ll fuck the hell out of you