Sitting at my lonely barside
I kneel before the patron saint
Of castaways,
And raise but *******.

The peanuts and peasants
Have much in common,
They are roasted, salted,
Glazed with a succor
No sweeter than savage starlight

They serve to compliment
The fine layer of salt
On the rim of my cocktails
The liquor as **** as their company.

This is the rite of reverence
That droops my eyelids
This is the gleaning genuflection
Of the day's stale bread.