Get Another Dollar in America

 

Get another dollar in America, why the fuck not. Get another dollar in America, another dollar and another dollar. Get a few dollars together and buy a plot of land in America. Bury yourself in America on a plot of land that you bought, you paid for it, fuck it why not? Get another dollar in America and another dollar and another dollar and pile them on top of one another. Have kids in America. Buy televisions, buy computers, buy comic books and candy canes. Buy things in America. Have Christmas with your family in New Jersey. Go to the Black Hills. Go home and get another dollar in America. Get fucked. Fuck the world. In America. Have another fucking hard time. Get down with the get down. Get the fuck down. Sit down. Stand up and god damn it, why are you doing that? Get to fucking work. Make another dollar in America. Celebrate Christmas with the family. Buy another toy in America. Take another selfie. Suck your own dick in America. Swallow your own tail in America. Get another fucking dollar in America. Buy a ticket to America. Buy something in America. Sell your first name. Get another dollar, fuck it why not.

The Cholesterol Palace

A pound of fried ants costs around twelve dollars. You can buy a six pack with that. I mean the ants are fine but I’d rather have the beer. 

I’m in Columbia this week with my friend Jorge. There’s a place here called the Cholesterol Palace.

I just couldn’t stand to be in America for the Fourth of July. Too many commie bastards. Fuck em all. 

Jorge grew up in the barrio, whatever that means. He’s six feet tall and weighs three hundred pounds. It takes seven beers to get him worked up, and I’ve only got twelve dollars.

I’ll be fine. All I gotta do is be brave and be kind. One day I’ll meet the kings of my homeland far beneath the earth, and, with the pale glow of eternity dulling age’s perpetually famished blade, those shy girls and I will make our amends.