A Riddle for the Cheshire Cat

I'd like to go to the strip bar
but when I get the money
rarely see the point...
after all there are many other ways
to be soon parted with one's Sacagaweas,
but I ought to go more often
as nature has its fees

There are lots of things I hate about America
(the other day I considered an essay)
but there are more I love,
and some part of it is the land
through which I've wandered most my years,
half the time thinking
I was in a universe quite different

I have never eaten caviar:
this doesn't matter
in the sense of mattering,
as in mattering beyond my own whims
but I have dodged the rattlesnakes of Oregon
and the motorcycles of Thailand...
and before I take my leave
I should like a good french champagne
and a tin of caviar

I used to be a philosopher
but am sure I'm far from it now:
I no longer feel "the pulse of the age"

This is all thoughtless rambling
as trivial as jeopardy
as mad as King George,
blue piss falling on Santa Monicans at tea

I was once a bright youth
with plans, hopes, and dreams:
I am now a sight past presentable,
a dirty, angry denizen of Bohemia

una artista de lugares peligroso
a caviar monger,
a man to whom a mirror tells nothing