Drunken Moon Poem by Leslie Xavier

Nothing much, not even an effort,
at last a sober night, this one.
Shutting down the brewery tap,
with a thought and a call.

By her side on the roof,
roles over, rolls are in.
Swaying in the evening breeze,
watched by a drunken man.

Sleepy eye, half eh! Quarter open,
crimson too, it's the excesses.
Ain't he sexy, she's crazy,
he's drunk and he will leave.

A bottle down the infant night,
right on cue, men are the same.
He's stoned for the night,
as we stole some time and smiles.