Fenestrella's bars close
At eight puncitilio.
We're lucky, in a way;
It's a dry county.

A quick clench of Teneriffe then
Down with dog and elk,
Carrying transubsantial Kool-Aid.
We're lucky, in a way;
It's a dry county.

Dacia trouser-roles him in herself,
Rewriting Ariadne, buckles
Down the straw bales with the old
one/two.
We're lucky, in a way;
It's a dry county.

--Wallace Shawe