I woke up
in the backseat of Hank Williams'
Cadillac again
I was scrunched in one corner,
he in the other
as I felt his sharp kick
"Get up, Boy!
We got a show in Jackson tonight."
opening one eye barely
the blinding light
blazing through the trees
seared my fried mind
"Where are we?"
I somehow mumbled
while drifting back to numb
"How the fuck should I know?
Alabama, I think."
I fell out to take a piss,
get my bearings,
-hope i would die
we were in the gravel lot
of a backwoods roadhouse
now abandoned
and a few memories kicked in
I should've cried,
but i giggled maniacally
"Hey, Hank.
What happened with that blonde
all painted up like a circus?"
He was pissing off the other fender
"The one with the red pants?"
I laughed
"Yeah, she looked like cherry jello
in an earthquake."
he hawked up some stale whiskey,
spit, and his shaking fingers
lit a cigarette.
"I don't know, Boy.
The barkeep said she was buggy
and she danced like shit."
getting in behind the wheel,
trying to focus,
I wondered which way
Jackson was and how far
as Hank plunked away
in the backseat
warbling,
"I saw the light."
the motor fired up,
I guessed left
not really caring
as i flung rocks and dirt
on another fucked up night
I glanced in the mirror
where Hank sat looking
like a pile of bad shit
smokin a lucky,
searchin for chords
to bend
"Hey Hank?"
"Yeah, Boy?"
"How come we live like this?"
Hank looked out the window
far beyond my seeing
"Cuz some of us were never meant to get old,
and dyin young isn't as easy as most people think."
I just smiled and nodded,
knowing Hank was right again
