Why They Invented The Blues

Why They Invented the Blues I’ve got cigarettes and coffee and nothing but time on my hands and my heart on my sleeve doing my best to believe and to follow as my Good Lord commands. Reading Proverbs and reading papers and thinking the hours away… with Styrofoam plates and plastic spoons – jailhouse rocking to country tunes and the same bullshit day after day. I’m fed my breakfast, dinner and supper like a dog in the S.P.C.A… The guards bark and shout before letting me out. It’s cruel, but it’s good union pay. And me, I’m without an opinion. I just can’t afford one, you see. So I’m checked and re-checked as my life has been wrecked and my lawyer’s now angry with me.

k.g.