it’s very late and the crickets are bedding down in the banana trees for the night and behind the brick walls yes the ones tagged with nonsense the drunkard kings are pissing i’ve been kicked out of many a slummy joint you wouldn’t be the first bouncer to pop that cherry although i give you the fact that i was a little loud when the barkeep wouldn’t take my buck for a bottle of vodka but you understand i’m petite and not of swift feet when i’ve had a few tom collins’ down my gullet ok i get it don’t call my parent’s and that is not my id card but i do resent it when you won’t admit it that i’m the best duker in the bunch and while i have rosy knuckles to prove it let’s not point out last week’s black eye but don’t worry about me by the time i’m in my forties i might have been through a few programs for exceptional drinkers but psychoanalysis has nothing to do with a girl having fun on a Saturday night and by the way can you hold my hair back i feel a wave of chili coming up