Walking from the bar,
I stepped in buffalo poop,
1:00 a.m. and drunk.

It oozed through sandals,
covering my sunburned feet,
and I did not mind.

Shooting stars passed by.
A lewd wish about young girls
far out of my league.

Dogs growled, barked, or whined
as I quietly passed by
wishing they would bite.

All of this is true.
Please take from it what you will.
Or just leave it here.