I have said yes too often and meant yes. I have said sorry too often and meant huh? That’s cuz I was blotto.
I was looking for happiness but it wasn’t up anybody’s pantleg, guarded as a crow’s nest. With my little eye I spy.
The people at the yacht club would have none of it. They’d spent years nursing their Cutty Sark. Years on the rocks.
The port has an inn, the inn has a bed, the bed has a body and the cops have a clean set of prints. I fled.
So now I’m wanted in another state. Every so often my mug shows up at the bar and there are questions asked.
Were any of these men in the room with you? Think carefully. The light chasing your eyes. And did you flinch.