Wrong
I staggered down the road looking for skirt
I’ve had my drink now time for dessert
Bouncing off walls, falling about
Eyes going funny about to conk out
I get to the door and fall flat on my face
Staggering around all over the place
The velvet seats and the strange décor
I sat myself down waiting for whore
The man at the desk said “what do you want?”
I looked at him trying to be nonchalant
My eyes were rolling, I couldn’t sit still
My body was moving of its own freewill
“I want a woman get them on display”
“ But sir, you’re in the Bengal Indian Takeaway.”
Copyright © Graeme Taylor 2013
GT
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment