Weary Reflections

Alcohol and albuterol,
And the blessed goings in the night.
I’ll take a stroll over ethanol,
And fill my straying’s delight.

Birth a la mode and being blandly blue,
Filling my gullet with mussels and mullet,
While waving hello
To the dinky and the True.

Now the cold wind blows o'er my freezing toes
But I just smile and say,
“I’ll walk where I choose with the holes in my shoes,
And I’ll not suffer though you may.”