Saturday Night on Vine Street
He with pregnant wife,
Sneaking out the back
And down the broken stairs,
To score some grass or crack.
Threading through the alley,
Both in tattered jeans,
Dodging all the roaches,
The whores and gaudy queens.
Shuffling down the sidewalk
Through the stinking slums,
Passing by its barrooms,
Its pimps and trembling bums.
Stopping by revival,
Hear the preacher yell,
“Christ once died for us, folks,
To keep us out of Hell.”
(1975)
