Plural cups
Ran down
His itchy
Throat
He loved
Everything
But unfilled cups;
He walked
Like a toddler
His gait
Drinks driven
He wore
An unbuttoned
Shirt
Sleeves uncuffed,
Wore reeks of
Wine barrel,
Pissed in his pants
Muttered indecipherable
Words
Children followed
Him everywhere
He went, singing, clapping
And he throwing pebbles
At them.
He finally fell down
Beside the street
Flies in his mouth
Grunting, humming, snoring
Like the lorry
That brought the drinks.
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