On 14th Street

It provokes the question:
Am I the only sane sober sensible person
In this counterfeit grunge saloon?
I'm tempted to leave. I should go home
And retreat to normalcy.
But this place is such a boisterous sideshow,
It mesmerizes as it disgusts.
Videlicet: This booze-addled woman--
She was there with her husband
Seeking asylum from three-digit heat . . .
She terrorized poor little Mousey Boy,
Drove him into a corner, where he curled up and died.
This loud, improper, presumptuous woman,
Ignoring hubby, cozied up . . .
(To quote Captain Binghampton:
Why o why is it always me?)
This loopy woman latched onto me,
And--trying to sound profound through her haze--
Like an oracle said:
Those things were given to you,
And you kept them.
Now what will you give in return?
She was swigging from a grimy glass
Somebody else had left on the counter;
Excellent way to catch meningitis!