Pasadena

I was sitting in the black leather
staring at the console
are rigged with ebony
and the owner says
"Why don't you..."

all I could think was
::here it comes::

so i spun off some story about sherrifs
that he turned into some Masonic conspiracy
which is ok
better than smoking drugs
in some ex-Marines Lexus
while you bum a ride from Pasadena to Torrance
on nothing but your weird old leather clothes
and some rude conversation
about being a poor writer
in Drugged Out Ville
where the police were making a mess
as is custom
where the mess was already there.