Thai China
buzzes
because
we
buzz.
It quiets
because
we
quiet.
I'm at the end of my stamina,
me and you,
we've had a few beers;
got to talking;
and BAM!!!:
WE"RE MOROSE.
The business crowd
goes crazy
for some Thai China.
The tempers
calm
over hot bowls of white rice
(costing $5)
that steam up into
hooked noses.
Our lips,
juicy by now,
are so numb
that
we gave up talking a minute a go.
And got into a ***** male mood.
We just stare at the girls,
the waitresses,
wanting to **** them
in our nasty dreams.
Wanting to stick
our *****
in EVERY HOLE,
but we just get drunker
and drunker
and stir over
our bowls of rice.
The business
of business
commences;
our suppressed urges
and office angers
dull
by the mouthful.