So what? by Harry Calhoun
So fuck Bob Kaufman and Charles Bukowski
and all those cats, I’m tired of writing about what was,
give me something to live for now, just let me sleep
and wake up the next day
I rode the bus of obscurity and I don’t want
to ride the greasy rails of fame.
But you know what matters? The other night,
Johnny Depp came on stage
at the People’s Choice Awards
and the crowd stood up like a chorus.
I wept, and somewhere, I’m certain,
Jesus did too.