~

It was a Saturday morning.
We got cigarettes around 10:00,
***** around 10:30 (they just wouldn't leave the liquor isle),
and drunk around 11.
We didn't stop drinking
and smoking
until we ran out.

High as the low lying clouds
that rained upon us,
we walked
the streets of the town we were born in.

They have a word for boys like us.
Probably a few,
but we don't need to get into that.
Time ******,
highs fade,
wallets empty
and we got drunk at 11 on a Saturday morning.
They have words for boys like us.
Bums,
hoodlums,
punks.
Whatever,

It was a Saturday morning and we had pie for breakfast.