The Bucktoe Flophouse

Those black curtains
Kept all the light out,
Not that there was any light
All I had was one lamp to shine in a room with
Baskets as side tables,
No dresser, and a full sized bed.

Those were the months
When I kept all the doors upstairs shut
And the baseboards off in the spare room
Because it cost too much to heat
And there wasn’t anybody in there anyway.

I’d get home, do some dissertation work,
Play some block busting computer game,
And then get in bed,
Usually after some chai with tequila or something
Then go straight to my iPod, my one treasure.

That was before iTunes got good,
When a downloaded CD didn’t show up with titles,
I typed them all in,
Clapton, Allman Brothers, and Santana
Plus everything else I had.

Then I bought magazines with CD samplers
Where new music found my home.
So much new stuff, fresh breaths to my stale breathing.
It seemed like Neko always played right before I fell asleep,
In that room with just enough heat
And the perfect amount of light.

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