The happiness of intoxication among strangers, good people
Talking among folks from all over the world who have
This one thing in common: Day’s End Alchohol Tipsiness.
Beer upon beer, glass of wine upon glass of wine.
There’s hard stuff available, but no one’s hitting it.
We’re a beer, wine – and here in England, cider – mellow crowd.
Maybe some of them like their scotch or bourbon shots at home,
But here we’re tourists, and we all have to rise and shine
To do all those sundry touristy things we’ve planned well
To run us around from bright and early and bushiest tailed-ness.
But tonight it’s a mellow high with fellow strangers
Good conversation about everything from trips we’ve taken,
To pets, to kinfolk distributed around the globe.
And, as usual, I find,“ up comes That guy you folks elected president.”
Always a great joy to be the only American in the crowd,
So everyone can ask that question of me, focusing their animus.
Thus ensues the obligatory dumping session on every single thing
They can list that’s the hell wrong with him.
“Don’t worry,” the man from Manchester says to me, “we don’t judge
All you Yanks by the behavior of that jackass.”
And we move on and up to happier subjects,
The conversation nadir passed.
Lanning Lee 