a good man is hard to find

when jake

was alive and kicking,

i'd pick him up for work.

he'd be sitting on

the steps at the 7-11.

he was usually

half sober

at eight in the morning.

smelling of cigarettes

and last nights booze.

he'd have a new

cut on his face or a fresh

black eye.

i'd ask him to roll his window

down when he got into the truck.

rubbing my nose, inching

away from him.

he'd be sleepy and tired,

exhausted from the weekend.

but then he'd see a girl

walking by and wake up.

he'd whistle to her.

hey baby. hey baby.

he'd see a pregnant woman

pushing a stroller

and yell out to her.

asking her what she was

doing later, then

turn to me, and say

with a loud laugh, you

know what she's been up to.

it was a long day

with jake the snake.

but he could paint.