Elk Grove

I awoke and I arose
And said to you, “Let’s go see Rose”
Rose gives the best haircut in all of Elk Grove
And she’s as funny as any person I know

She says, “Who in the fuck in this world only knows how to do one job?
If you only know how to do one job in this world, you’re fucked
Learn how to change a tire, learn how to draw blood.”
I said, “Rose, I got to tell you, that comment, it stings
For I only have one job, I play guitar and sing.”

She said, “Well that’s two jobs you can dingaling.”
I said, “Well, I’m also a songwriter.” She said
“There you go, that’s three.”
I said, “Yeah, but all of the theaters and churches and nightclubs are closed.”
She said, “What are you talking about? Evеrything’s closed
The dentist officеs are closed, and the places that sell clothes
Even the dry cleaners are closed, J. Coors is closed.”
I said, “So how are you staying in business, Rose?”
She said, “I’m creative, I know the in’s and out’s
And I’m in with the cops, you know.”

I said, “How do you suggest that I reopen, Rose?”
She said, “Keep playing and singing, and before you know it, you’ll be back on your toes
While the rest of the world is battling it out and shaming each other county to county
Stay in your lane, exercise your mind and grow.”
And in that moment, I awoke and I arose
I told her, “Thank you for the haircut, Rose.”

And then we drove on past the whispering oaks
Past the galloping horses and Black Kite Road
Elk Grove, the home of Tritones
Elk Grove, the home of Zecky’s Fish Tacos
Elk Grove, South Sacramento
Elk Grove, the home of my old friend Rowan

Sitting on my porch next to a blue and white Chinese vase
Full of red and white salvia and lavender and wild yellow aster picked from a storybook landscape
And a copy of John Fante’s Ask the Dust
Where the Mayan princess, Arturo Bandini, is in love
Where the Mayan princess, Arturo Bandini, is in love
He’s in love but he doesn’t know how to show it
Every time he tries, he insults her, and he ends up blowing it
And when she tells him just how much she hates him
He tells her that he’s proud to be raided by her hatred

Today we walked into town, the rose petals were falling, the lilies were turning brown
While the spireas were turning fluorescent pink
All the way up to the foothills, where the houses overlook the Sierra Mountain peaks

And from my porch, I saw two paramedics outside just down the block
I told you they were there and I went outside to watch
Later on you asked me, what did I see?
I said, “I had to stop looking, I don’t have an ounce of voyeurism in me
What’s happening over there I am not meant to see.”

And tonight’s another beautiful night and I’ll be up until dusk
Reading John Fante’s Ask the Dust
Beside you, sporting a fresh haircut
Grateful for my city water, that I’m not on septic
Everybody I’ve ever known that’s been on septic complains relentlessly that septic is hectic

And I’m laying awake wondering about who was being carried away by paramedics
I went vocational in high school and not academic
I didn’t choose to be a songwriter, it’s just what I am, and I know I’ve not perfected it
Is this song compelling, do you find it copacetic?
Whatever it is, it’s what I do, and you can expect more of it