The drinks were in abundance.

The ice was cold and cubed.

The songs and myths were in a loop.

The tongues were loosely lubed.

Last call came at closing.

There was screaming in their throats.

With no one left to take them home.

And they were really feeling their oats.

The sun came out at midday.

The rays were bright and warm.

There were rumblings of a brouhaha.

Along with rumors of a storm.

Dennis Mantin

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