It’s Dollar Night In the Best Part Of Town

to be stabbed.

mojo is bent out of shape outside popeye’s
engaged in dialogue with his other half
the name is self-appointed, because who needs mothers
in this transitional year of our lord
stuck in the low gears of the middle chunk of the decade
pedaling uphill, like the yellow man in frowning france,
mojo, we all need to be made new again.
it can’t possibly be your fault, and i am sorrier
than the last person to pass by and say the same.