He mumbles, forcing me to ask,
"What's that? What did you just now say?"
His vodka's done its nightly task,
Helped push his empty day away.
Amidst the hubbub at the bar,
Perched on his stool, his words unclear,
Above the strains of a guitar,
He tries to talk, but I can't hear.
The barmaid passes by, he points;
She brings a drink to fill his need.
He spills some vodka, which anoints
The bar, then drinks his holy creed.