It's a Tuesday night,
street lights been on,
buzzin'
loud as shit.
I'm on my street corner
'cause that's where I go
Tuesdays.
I'm just smokin'
my last three Red and Whites
'cause I save 'em --
I save 'em Tuesdays
s'I can smoke 'em here
and by the time they's all gone,
I know Tuesday's too.
Why I come here
is what most people demand.
"Get your ass home man,"
they tell me.
Guess you stop appreciatin'
street corners
when they's more like a bed --
more like a dinner table
more like a place of business
than a thinkin' spot.
Man, I don't really have reason
to be here tonight
on Tuesday
chose it pretty arbitrarily.
I just like settin'
and thinkin' with my three
Red and Whites.
Maybe I wanna watch people,
ya know?
Maybe I just wanna feel
like a part of the city --
part of the street
and not the streets,
like I belong
much as this bench
I worn in
belongs on this corner.
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