Narrow Peaks Deep Valleys And Whores Poem by James McLain

No, it's what I now choose,
Thinking less nor often more watching the
Hospitable get drunk.
It's mostly flat in Florida, Tampa is and was.
Pillow talk went out when beer for liquor I switched,
Switching on or off like a switch.
Getting drunk I invite the whores here in, they used to be
As common as leaves on a tree.
Flatlanders, the ocean and breeze, unable to sell my last only lie,
To drunk to see how to remove her bra in lean time's.
She is as drunk as me and sucks on her straw until the sun
Comes up while I'm asleep.
And I think too of old women, sick of life as deathknows before hand
Who's to young to drink from that cup of life.
I am sure I have seen you here, these same men to old to see
you look around and see that I'm no longer here, to that I say Amen.