Pavement ass-wipe.

another careless whisper
amongst the night owls
as sanity sways
towards something unlikeable.

I rolled my sleeves up
underneath my jacket
so the wrists could drive freely
if such situation should arise.

This is just another dance,
but when you dance just here
you must have the waltz in the bag.
Don't think about practicing.

I don't feel much for what I say,
but I know that each stroll
offers the same promise:
Leather gloves and a quick pace.

As they shout from their idiot cars
stop, get out...
Little do they know,
not everyone they come across
knows how to handle a beer,
a poem
and a deluded cunt.