All Over the Place

to everyone's burdens presently! 

Except Groom’s, a steady-state-

drunk laughing this newest farce 

away. Both tribes despair

at the ludicrous match, fret

fate of Clans' staid bourgeois

reputations when kids erratically born? 

So what? Life, itself, struggles

regardless. "Big Deal!" tee-

totales she between his un-

conscionable belts of crap-booze: 

Endless Loop! 

Yeah, but our Bride smells nice still! 

Meantime Groom-Souse drops vile 

poop, proclaiming the grunting-while

his muddled stores of bitterly disagreeing knowledge as the only way to begin getting anywhere in learned discourse. For answer, she 

giggles here and there as to him as 

“#1 sexy bastard going!” (referencing 

those few times he’s half-sober…

or brutally hungover.)

They’ve bought motorcycle!

She, only, drives for he's

forever fogged when plotting

to seek a license.

But and a MUST! She’s only happy In CONTROL. That never, ever, has 

changed. Nor will. 

Uh, True Love, then, knows more

then it lets on? That awfully Weird, 

Yes?

Nope. Is what is...just is!

That's all.