Don’t think I’ll bother going home tonight. The firmament’s cooked.
The goose is unhinged. There’s really nothing on TV; I checked.
Are you calling me an outlier? Go engage with meaning
On a thinking man’s dime. Abuse no cookies.
This night is all wet and good, but my coffee is starting to reek
Of a cobbler’s disquiet. I think it needs to be changed.
Dented furniture (the most forgiving kind) would cease
To rant or vent or whatever you want to call it if only
Certain individuals would stop putting their friends on it,
And in such awkward positions to boot. (Just gotta yank ’em.)
Jesus effing Christ, this is some release party.
The moon isn’t about to comment on it, though,
So give up now, while the giving’s good. Chaos resigns
If we’re not careful. A most agreeable vaccination
Lingers inside us long after we’re gone. That’s all the marching
Band is willing to admit. What a bunch of buttholes.