We wore torn blue jeans,
the holier the better,
pearl-buttoned shirts
& pointed Justin's
rounded out
our tough-guy
wardrobe.

We guzzled whiskey
& Crown
& told most folks
to kiss our *****,
even the coppers.

The pretty lasses loved us
& some had bigger ***** than us,
they tried to capture our hearts
& make real men out of us.

Sometimes
they succeeded
& sadly,
sometimes not,
our common sense
clouded
by alcohol-laced
testosterone.

I lost a lot of precious time
trying to be cool.