Every raindrop hits me In Winter night, my skin reads the newspaper and I awake educated to the street The cold colds The robot beckons me to beg a coin Dressing in my unhappy face (they don’t know that the unhappiest shows nothing), I jostle with the Coca-Cola Man to get my tax relief Later, I’ve got my bread and single cigarette and I’m playing hide-and-hide with the older boys Thank God, they don’t see the angel in my pocket so soon I’m sniffing her all the way to Heaven … Read the full article…