b-sides in poetry

yeah, it’s snowin’ on Raton
but we got things to do in Denver
now that we’re both dead
the time spent in Los Ang-elease
like desperadoes ‘neath the eaves
are gone and so is Brooklyn and
its debts to charmers under me

yeah, I stood upon a corner
down in Winslow, Arizon-er
in front of the combination
Long John Silver Taco Bell
Doug, I think that you were right
about how rock songs mostly lie
just to get us through the night
but the hard rain always falls
washing clean tenement walls
in these little towns
the hits will never mention
not George Gershwin or even
fucking One Direction

still, I like New York in June
those Baby Britain Bushwick blues
Stipe’s Orange Crush in Syracuse
not the poor places we all call home
when providence stops rolling stones
where you shoot up from a dream
and wonder, is this Ensenada?
or is this Echo Park
or is it just some
other place never
mentioned on the
Billboard charts