Unbelievable Poem by Thomas Case

She steals candles from
the craft store.
I stole a ceramic rooster,
and said,
'Here's your cock.'
We rock the stores like
they're our bitch.
It's an itch that
has to be scratched.
We get drunk and
it's game on.
It's a high, like
having sex in public;
like that first shot of
booze when you're
shaking and sick.
Someday, it will all
come crashing down.
But until then,
it's the flash of
lightning and the crown.