Hey man hey hey hey man i need a
dollar man you got a dollar i
need your money more than you
man i need my fix dont judge me
my dealer keeps jacking up the price
man you gotta help me out hook me
up i gotta get my fix its my
damn dealer man i dont have the cash
but i gotta get it man because i
need my fix do you get me you gotta
get me man you're my last hope hey
man hey hey hey man help me
you have to have a dollar a quarter
two dimes anything dont
go walking away from me man i
know you have it because youve got
your fancy clothes and your
fancy phone and your fancy iPod
and what are you doing on
my side of town anyway
youre too fancy for here man
oh forget it it doesnt matter i
don't want your pity i just want
your change man.
So.
How about it man?

This is the internal monologue of our junkie nation.
I've written it all down just as it went down.
We bumped into each other on the corner and you tried to shake me down.
And I had to write it out and spell it out as we worked it out.
I have cataloged all the details –
the shifty, bloodshot eyes
the unwashed, limp hair
the acrid, days old breath
the dirty, twitchy, refusing to stand still fingers
the shakes – the perpetual shivering and stumbling and altogether addiction.
I have cataloged America as America happened to me and I have cataloged you as you happened to me and then I gave America a mirror and then I gave America all the money in my pockets or maybe I gave you all the money in my pockets and then I gave you a mirror but, man, I hope it was enough.
So.
Go for it.
Drink down your calorie free, carbonated diet fake sugar vanilla cream chocolate berry cherry of a life because something with that many natural and artificial flavors has got to be worth the dollar and forty-seven cents you paid for it.