West Coast

On the streets of San Francisco
I went for a walk with an old friend of mine

The world was strange
The sun set
I was ten years old
My face fell into the dirt

The trees were different
Dancing birth into death-pregnant architecture
And a bizarre, withering old fellow
And his chihuahua screamed in my direction
"My name is Rupert Murdoch!
Get off my fucking lawn!"

I said
"All the emperors of infancy sat and stared at everything
Or something becoming nothing
A subway masturbator in the corner fucked off
A man walked into a train station
And just started flatlining"

I said
"It is what it is when it is it
Even when it isn't
Slipped
And flew
It is what it is when it is it
Even when it isn't
Right into you"