Of a drunken moonless night, you
in plain dress along a desertedroad,
some lost highway, and I chanced by to rescue,
thinking you a lost waif though you turn out
a lurking sprite and beguile me as surely
as Eden’s serpent did Eve, albeit
to no great fall, neither to an exclusion
of anyParadise—merely from the dull
security of boredom to curse with an
interesting time in the life of an
otherwise melancholy slacker.
of a drunkless moonéd night, you and me
and a bottle of scotch found another
way to make life a little livable.
David M Pitchford
19 Sept 2011