Breezing through the evening

I know that I ought to be leaving.

Soon my insides will be heaving

To the porcelain altar, I'll be grieving.

My face turns to rubber, to waste,

As all of these sweet nectars I taste.

I drank far too much in my haste,

I must hurry, with this pasty face.

05/20/2008

Author's Note: I had been waiting too long.... the Mint Juleps were just piling up!

Posted on 05/20/2008
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