BOOZE and rusty nails,
a brutal wind, carrying
your manic smile, traffic
lights, with matching luggage,
a clumsy thought, puts you
back in your wornout strait
jacket.
DONT botch it up,
dont botch it up,
says the queen,
for tonight, even the prodigal
son gets saved.
DAVID GERARDINO
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/whistles-and-laughter/
