I feel confined in my 99' Jetta,
pounding hand on my back.
The alcoholic who just turned 18
is passed out next to me.

Philly eh? A lot dirtier than I thought
and a lot colder…
Clad in my modern interpretation of
"shining" armor,
I freeze…

Slowly inhaling the smoke-filled air
I consider the futility of it all.
But, unlike most who
"consider the futility of it all"
I don't care.

Give me my crazy clubs,
Dirty cities, passed out friends and let me be.
You get me during the day, O sun,
Willingly abandon me at night.

6:30 and they are still not here to
show us this supposed "Tex-Mex" restaurant.
And it's already getting dark…
And I've heard stories of what comes
out after dark.

So although I am confined,
coughing and chilled,
I am content writing in this little
blue book.