WEBVTT

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All right, we're moving into
the heavier stuff now, I think.

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It's all in the back.

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You'll just be bombarded
toward the end,

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but I'll try to allow time
for it all to saturate.

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This, I don't know
whether it really does it,

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but it expresses something.

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I keep reading it all
the time, because it's

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my tribute to Arizona, and
Charles Smith, and violence,

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and the Rolling Stones,
and Led Zeppelin.

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It used to be "Oh Killer, Who
Do You Love," but I changed it

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to "The Hitchhiker,"
which is better, I think.

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"The Hitchhiker."

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"The Arizona wind
dries out my nostrils,

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and the heat of the
sidewalk burns my shoes

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as a woman drives up slowly.

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I get in, grinning at
a face I do not like,

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but I slide my arm across
the top of the seat

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and rest it lightly
against her shoulder.

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We turn off into the desert,
and I reach inside my pocket

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and touch the switchblade.

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We stop.

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And as she moves closer
to me, my hands ache.

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But somehow, I get the
blade into her chest.

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I think a song--

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everybody needs
somebody, everybody

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needs somebody to love,
as the black numerals

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35 roll out of her right
eye and side one small tear.

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Laughing, I snap my
fingers, rape, murder,

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I got you in the
sight of my gun.

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I move off toward
the street, my feet

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press down in it, familiar
with the hot soft asphalt

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that caresses them.

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The sun slips down into its
cradle behind the mountains,

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and it is hot, hotter
than ever, and I like it."

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