Back then, TV didn’t go on forever. Back then, stations would sign off, sometimes at two a.m., sometimes at three. They would play the national anthem and show round designs like archery targets, and then static would fuzz the screen until dawn.

In the tumbled-down now there's too much material, culled from pretty boys that don't notice me and tattooed ones that do, and I'm certain there's at least one dreamer soaking eyes into me who knows all the twisted lyrics invoking pretty little horses.

The kind of poem poets write and read. I mean, hey I was feelin’ it HARD at 3:24 am, and this is what spilled out.