Nautical Steve Gets His

He was fat with shrimp and regret.
His lady, a painted jumble of aches,
shrieked at him to get a damn job,
for Chrissake, how can he just sit
around and fucking drink all day?
Could he at least answer her that?

He couldn’t, actually, so he rolled
a joint and told her she wasn’t doing
him any goddamn favors by hanging
around and she could hit the road
any old time…like right then, just
as the sun forced itself over the hills
and the birds sang like they gave a fuck.

Before she left, she visited a frying pan
on his oversized head, and he sank like
a stone to the ocean of the filthy carpet.
She grabbed the keys to his new Harley
and cranked it up, startling the living hell
out of the chickens at the trailer next door…

…and off she went into wild Florida once more.