(lxx)


In this room shall I rest. Disconsolate,
Torpedo’d by the Blues, and drowned in scenes
Of drink and dissipation, still I've means
’Fore which my woes must fast capitulate.
Not yet the noose. Nor will I stoop to sate
This thwarted passion ’mid them Cajun queens
Nor either leave my hose zipped in my jeans.
Nay, let me stand, and loudly urinate.

I thought I had a woman I could trust.
I thought I had a brand new Chevrolet.
But she’s run off, and now my chrome is rust.
I'll let that pass. I’ll piss my blues away.

With its last drops my pen concludes this sonnet:
That woman’s been my ruin; but, piss on it.