Inheritance

To you, Dotty, he left the liquor store,But you only took the contents: the porno mags, litersOf raspberry Smirnoff, fistfuls of cash from the drawerWith the 45, bags and bags of goldfish. You were backEvery other day to slowly turn The Goldmine into a bodega,While I manned the counter and the yuppies, doling outParliament Lights till 2 a.m. The 26-year-old you hiredMade me look older, but he only wanted to watch Living ColorOn shrooms, and to get in my mouth. Can you tell me aboutThe raging hummingbirds in your ear as you head-buttedThe Mustang into your mother's Camry in the green zoneOut front? Is there a way to strangle their feathered necksOr teach them how to crave destruction less?