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SALLY: After all of this, I wonder if he feels content with his life, if he did what he really wanted to do

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Mint I took out the wrong subscription And I don't know what Im gonna End up spending Free of Hope Bricks are dirty lakes are dead The family dog is mad Baby brother's science beakers are all broken Now the yard peacocks are all sad Board games are boring May they rot on the shelf Big brother's at Columbia University Quote unquote he's tanning beaver pelts Subtle as a billboard o so refined Smoking through my chimney Burning up this life of mine Free of hope Free of the past Thank you god of nothing I'm free at last Free of hope Free of the past Thank you god of nothing I'm free at last I'm free at last I'm free, free at last A chip on the shoulder usually means There's wood up above But no man at this shiny oblong table Is very very fibrous Picnic demographics I'm scorched and corn fed Leaning on the banister I know it's just another 20 years of sweat Making up his milk dud mind Gnawing on a Charleston chew Look inside his hothouse eyes See his budding youth Free of hope Free of the past Thank you god of nothing I'm free at last Free of hope Free of the past Thank you god of nothing I'm free at last I'm free at last I'm free, free at last Betty Lonely Betty lonely Lives in a duplex of stucco On the north bank of a brackish river Her ears omit the noise from a nearby airstrip Her mind floats beyond the snapper boats Betty lonely Her eyes are roughly staring At a point through her sliding glass door Her heart lives over a drawbridge Her brain is wet like a thrownet Betty lonely She will always think in Spanish Though I know Her Spanish black hair will start to fade She sunk her past Out in the surrounding salt flats Her maidenhood was lost Beneath the Spanish moss Betty lonely Just talks to her grandbaby Everybody else she blots them out But her words stick Like a flounder gig Her dry laugh is like a gaff Thumbtack Take a lightbulb from the closet Replace the one above the faucet Scrape the whiskers from my face Nick my lip in pointless haste Take a magic marker black Darken a spot on the map Of a county on the coast Where I was born out of a ghost Underneath a ceiling fan Contemplate a master plan Breathe a sigh of recognition For a childhood superstition Push a thumbtack in the wall Pierce the picture I did draw It's a graphic portrait from my youth It hurts my heart this forced review Thailand It's a battle of the culinary arts In this boiling land You met your mate Over across that river And some good old contraband In Thailand Thailand Thailand Thailand Into our lovely story Who do we insert