Transcript

Round Here Part 2 · Vinnie Penn Poemcast

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Lisa's born and raised like I was. Cell Phone in her hand. I
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said, I'd like to meet a girl who looks like Hewett. And she
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walks along the edge of where the quirky meet the bland, and away.
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I've never seen some one do it. She parks her car outside the bar
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and does her make up. No way. She's close to understanding. Jesus.
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He's a card she punches three times a year, gorgeous at midnight.
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Mass would scoff at the notion that he seizes. Round Here, we're carving
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out our names. Round here, everyone is the same. Round Here,
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we confuse our needs with our demands. Round here, she's slipping through my hands.