Once I lived in a town in north Louisiana
by Michael David Morrissey
where you had to drive 30 miles to get a beer
in Monroe where the barkeep asked me, trying to help,
if I didn't think it might be me that was unfriendly.
A student, a professor's son, broke into my office
and peed on my desk because I'd separated him
from two Vietnam vets who were copying
from him. He would 'have it out with me, ' he yelled
crazy in his eyes, if I did it again, so I knew
it was him. The vets dropped the course.
I asked the dean what to do about Sonny Boy.
'If it was me I'd whup his ass, ' he drawled.
In the spring I got drunk in New Orleans and stretched out
in a field, feeling finally like a real Louisiana man
beside the highway coming home to sober up.
A woman stopped to ask if I was ok. 'Yes, ' I lied,
and moved on to San Francisco, found the hippies gone
but Irish bars and Roots, the ugliest shoe ever (then) .
Didn't last long there either, turned my Negative Heels
on North America which didn't seem to want me, nor me
it and finally landed here in Sozialstaat Deutschland