The Inebriation Stomp

by Bob Braut, photo by Rob Rossetti
I.
dancin’ like an alleycat
out in the rain, poppin’
B-complex vitamins
to keep me fairly
SANE,
yea, my breath
could knock a buzzard
off a garbage truck;
put the day in a brown bag
to hold in the LUCK:
Lord, the MAGIC,
the MYSTERY;
All the rest is history.
yea, my combat boots go
CLOMP,
CLOMP,
CLOMP
slow and low
like a dose y doe
THE INEBRIATION STOMP!!!!

II.
Where did the years go?
On this park bench I sit;
“Shave and a haircut,
two bits.”
Explainin’ to the pigeons
the monadology of Leibnitz:
“Ya see, it’s like the space
betwixt two kernels of popcorn...
and I hear that the world
of HIGH-TECH
is on the fritz.”
Well, change the channel,
sit on a panel,
run a concerned forum,
practice proper decorum,
go have yourself
a meaningful dialogue,
it’s easy,
it’s neat,
it won’t soil your feet
like roller-skating
off a bump on a log...
And my combat boots
GO
CLOMP
CLOMP
CLOMP
mellow and mad
like my foxtrottin’ Dad
doin’ the INEBRIATION STOMP.

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