Saturday night is like swimming in
A haven of perkiness.
Where lowly lives dwindle
On a thread of tear-stained hope.
I spot a twisted treat disguised
By Mr. Hershey.
Giddiness emerges from a deep crevice,
Stirred by the wand of first-rate java.
An entrée of men materializes before me
As shrieks of fellow banshees vibrate in eardrums.
The dull and short-witted follow in pursuit
As I am left with the bill in my grasp.
The comfort of my pillows lull me into a haze.
I can't wait for next Saturday.