something like that

all i want is a new warm jacket. if i had one my whole world would be like - bam! you know, like on. like stepping out the front door and like ready to hit it. pret-a-porter and all that shit. but i couldn't find the right one at any of those dung heaps in union square. i mean dung heap city baby. but where's all the dung beetles to take that shit away?? instead there's only tourists. the stores seem almost empty except for a few rich-looking tourists. and then my broke, but credit-infused, ass ready to throw down. lay down. roll around. smoke grass. and get back on that bus! but first some coffee in that underground cafe that puts me right to sleep. i haven't done anything today and it's really a weight on my shoulders. i still have to stop at trader joe's. frozen berries, cabbage, red peppers, multi-grain bread, two cans of cuban black beans, lavender dryer bags, vanilla soy milk. i still don't have anything to eat. i make grits instead.