white man in hammer(bimbly fuck)smith

the drive from our old barn, nestled in the $xxx,xxx.xx priced tagged houses,  to Dock st.  Straight as an arrow.  Right across town. 

Through ramshackle, trolley tracks and faded, well stained logo-ed mini market signs

Polar Bear - Brian

holes, charded brick row homes, ram shackled, some well groomed with old styled flowers and hand carved house number placards,  trash, old, just beaten down, rotting. securtiy bars, kids, babies, new sneakers, chrome hubs, mini spares, mcD's bags, chicken bones, crooked painted lines on the street.  twisted the wrong way st. signs.  churches with any window within a stones throw busted out.

pushing the boundaries cause it sounds better than being true, but polar bear is like Lynard Skynard + Bird + LCD soundsystem.  If that could happen that would flame all the hearing follicles aligning my ear canal.  from England?  ok it just plays on and on for now

and driving home, I just turned it up, till the bass threatened to shake the rear view mirror from the glass.

At each stop light that I was caught at, I just tried to look into, at this different world, sitting in the setting sun.

a white man on 42nd st headed outta w. phila.


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