My Devil

You crashed my car, you jerk, and
just after I got the water pump fixed.
You told my boss I wasn’t really sick.
Told my girlfriend she needs to know
where we’re going, what we’re about,
so put me down for a year or two
of hell before I finally get there,
because this sure ain’t fair,
to get shoved around, meathooked
onto so many little torments I
can’t even enjoy the Lakers win.
And who took $20 from my wallet?
Was that you, you son of a bitch?
Whoever you are, wherever you live,
I’ll get you for that! You think I’m scared?
Well, I once watched my best friend cry
in a goddamned planetorium light show
because his wife moved back to Texas.
And when I looked to see what to say,
there was the desert at night, stars
shining silent, like my idiot pals,
after Mrs. Crockett’s funeral mass,
hands in their pockets and nothing
to say either. Somebody needed me,
and I found a Mojave in my chest.
Just so you know, I don’t blame you
for that. That one’s on my tab. But,
if you would’ve looked into my eyes
that night, you'd have asked the angels
how do people ever get this sad.