Bacon-wrapped Dog on Mission St., 2am

Making like an assfish tryna get home.
None of them are high but still they wanna bone.
If they find a waste-line, you know they’ll have a good time;
maybe like a cigarette or a bee-sting, man.

They swimming like a blue thing right into the minivan.
Someone laughing, “Hit you with a stink ray--don’t you miss this flight!”
Someone, then someone, then someone, then clapping--
clapping, clapping, clapping--as the engine roars.
They headed down the highway, they vacate air...

Licking off a grease stain, I waved goodnight to the long-hair.