There are times when I think John Lennon's come back, in the form of a cowboy writer's son. James, son of Larry.
This song gets to me. Gets the hairs on my back up and my face turns red. I'm calling the state again today. Will try once again to get the money that's owed me. My friend Michael Kelly and I used to take these walks past Union Station in Hartford. Walk past the homeless guys wearing their tattered coats and dirty jeans and the shoes they probably picked out of a dumpster. Mike said to me one day, " You and I are one or two paychecks away from that, ya know. "
We were writers for an ad agency on Allyn Street at the time. I haven't heard from Mike lately. Me? I'm doing fine. Just fine. Just one more Vietnam era veteran. Living one day at a time...
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