Token Burg, boro, ville, and wood, I hate those tiny towns, Their obligations. If I needed Anyone to look at me, I’d dye my hair purple And live in Bemidji. Look at me. I want to dye My hair purple and never notice You notice. I want the scandal In my bedroom but not in the mouths of convenience Store customers off the nearest highway. Let me be Another invisible, Used and forgotten and left To whatever narrow miseries I make for myself Without anybody asking What’s wrong. Concern for my soul offends me, so I live in the city, the very shape of it Winding like the mazes of the adult-video
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