4 blocks plus the one in my brain

I'd like to preface this poem by saying that I was struck by a line from Elliott Smith's Needle in the Hay which goes "gonna walk, walk, walk... four more blocks plus the one in my brain," and I wondered what that might mean. This poem has little to do with the song other than it borrows the title and the image of a needle in a haystack. The longer a poem is for me, the more I feel like it isn't a poem anymore and more like a disorganized ramble. I'm working to lengthen this poem and get more in there without it feeling weird. As always, comments and criticism are welcome.

Four Blocks (plus the one in my brain)
 
Two pieces of tiny dangling silver,
like the flint and stone of jealousy, hung upon each lobe;
which in turn drove him from the bar to the alley,
and across the four city blocks
back to a lonely bed.

Two needles in the hay, come to surface unexpectedly
to prick his ears for a woman taken for granted.
It wasn't the new guy that bothered him, but this which he kept repeating on the 5th block home:
"she was wearing earrings.
she hardly ever wears earrings."


Currently listening to Coldplay's "yellow" and a live Fleet foxes show streaming on youtube from Austin City Limits