Roky Erickson

In the back of my car,
A sunburned drunk is reading Dylan Thomas,
Demanding to know the fuck he came up with that
While on the other side of town
You’re playing the blues
While the devil’s playing you.

Outside the barren room
A grizzled man is picking at a hole in the drywall
With the tip of a black snake skin boot.
He’s the one to ask about making
sure you’re crazy
before they do it for you.
Wrong part of Texas
With too much LSD
And no one’s certain if he was insane when he went in
But it was unquestionable when he came out
Thinking of demons
And begging Lucifer not to shake him.
Another casualty of the Summer of Love
Future found icon of the backbiting jet set.

And as I call the drunk a monster movie villain,
The phone rings

It’s your mother,
We need to talk.