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Poem	When you are slightly drunk Things are so close, so friendly. The road asks to be walked upon, The road rewards you for walking With firm upward contact answering your downward contact Like the pressure of a hand in yours. You think - this studious balancing Of right leg while left leg advances, of left while right, How splendid Like somebody-or-other-on-a-peak-in-Darien! How cleverly that seat shapes the body of the girl who sits there. How well, how skilfully that man there walks towards you, Arms hanging, swinging, waiting. You move the muscles of your cheeks, How cunningly a smile responds. And now you are actually speaking Round sounding words Magnificent As that lady's hat!
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