This afternoon I was drivin' around a little bit, just enjoyin' the day, the sunshine 'n a break from the wind we been havin'.
I looked in my rearview mirror, a car was signallin' ta' pass me on a curvey two lane pot-holed bumpy road. They were passin' me 'cause they could tell by lookin' that I weren't in no hurry. As they passed my, with a full politeness so seldom seen these days, I looked in my own mirror and realized that they where passin' me cause I am who I am, 'n they could see it.
I drive an old pickup, an S10 Chevy from the late '80's, a beater. Mounted on the truck's, splotchy spray painted cab are two lights kinda' lookin' like Mickey Mouse ears, there's a rake welded to the hood. The truck-bed carries decayin' trash bags atop a layer of hay. My truck.
As I drove it dawned in me that I am who I am 'n who I wanna' be.
I wear my boots, my wide brimmed hat, my jeans. I got a dog as my passenger. I'm goin' home to feed my horses.
I reflect on jail cells.

There's a man in the parkin' lot where I now sit in the same truck a pirate, a wi-fi pirate. The man's in the parkin' lot 'cause he smokes. The man smokes 'n admires a car, a Porsche, his. He smokes, admires, goes back inside, content, I assume.
Frank Zappa's widow's on the radio now, so's Frank, I pause to listen.
Thanks much.