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We dined in the breezeway |
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And met later in the carport for drinks |
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We rationed out the pills |
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Splitting evenly the blues and the pinks |
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We didn't really split the blues |
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I only mean that's what he thinks |
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He's got the mother lode this time |
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Why, o why are best friends such finks? |
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We met on the causeway |
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Unloading all our grievances there |
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He pat me on the shoulder |
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And I playfully ruffled his hair |
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Then brought him to the waterline |
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And constrained him while he struggled for air |
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Then I pulled him back and kissed |
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And we both went arm in arm to the fair |
