A Way Home

Far passed the legal limit,
bully behaviour;
verbal abuse
spilling over the street.

I remember seeing
the white lights flashing,
stumbling back
to the concrete curb
away
from the yellow line.

Trying to find my way
home,
I heard the sirens calling,
warning me to quit
feeling blue and seeing red;
I tried
to walk straight,
ignoring the voices
inside my head.

He yelled at me
to stop
and I froze
over like Hell;
a drunk detained
in the back seat
of a patrol cruiser.

How could I talk
my way out of spending
the night in jail;
cuffed and cut up?