Apoli Poem by James McLain

Under the moon my friend and I we understand
that bored people are boring.
So we left the village as I did not want the drunk
to become to familiar with grace
he did not posses.
My drink is my friend as the bowl I eat
from is also my friend.
Respecting the bowel for nourishment
of the body while the wine holds
steady my soul.
What would any one know: really I have long since
gone yet my words of clarity strike hard
home to the gnomes in my village who cannot hold their drink.