It’s a long way home from here. But I tread
o’er the widesalk, arm linked with a stranger’s
and a light, bubbly air about the head.
I’m a little slort of sheep, but danger
disappears and up like a listless dream.
Metal bracelets chime; a voice like a bell,
but my mind drifts; I know not what it means.
I’m under a lovely blue and red spell.
What’s this? Do I know my rights? I’m confused
since I’ve studied law for seven years,
then I think I puke on the stranger’s shoes,
and his stern, mustachioed face appears.
Then, we drive in quiet to the precinct,
‘till drink and shame to nothingness do sink.
