Dust he might’ve played his way to bright lights-big city but dope left him standing on his own chain- wheel of fortune drifted off his lucky number left him way down in macon county coming hard-apart rocked by the wolf cradled by the blues wearing time like a fading tattoo slouching in front of the trailways bus terminal too stoned to peel himself from the wall blowing his own secret sorrow directly into the concrete- broken phrases lying in the street tiny fractions of a life caught between cracks in the sidewalk