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Inebriated, to say the least
Distilled in spoken peace
at four within a morn
to his wife who wouldn't cease

her disbelieving feel
"You're lying to me still"
Never would he cheat
but she's thinking that he will

"I was at a bar"
he said with all his heart,
stumbling all around,
spoken in the dark

"I was at a bar,
golden were the doors,
Golden was the name,
gold upon the floors

I was at a bar-
idyllically serene
My gold upon the gold
urinal latrine
I was at a bar"
slurred it to his sleep
"You were at a bar?"
spoken in her weep

She waited till the dawn, she waited till the day
so woefully along, so woefully away
Calling on the phone, knowing in her vane
no bar would ever own Golden as a name

But spoken on the line,
staggering her mind
"Golden" given so
vocally benign

Wishing to be sure, she asked a little more
Questioning the sir, "Do you have a golden door?"
Astonishing again, "To make your way within-
through our golden doors, that way has always been"

"But have you golden floors", questioning some more
"The gilding of your soul is to step upon our floor"
Astounded by these things,
she vocally careened
"But a urinal latrine
goldenly serene?!"

Silently the line
had suddenly become
Wonder in her mind
of what she could've done

Detachedly removed,
shouted to the back
"Hey Mac! I think we've found
who was pissing in your sax!"