The Dregs. By John Doyle

 Last time I looked

I knew the last place they'd be

was the bottom of a pitcher

out of fizz, out of time, out of wives,

waiting for a refill from God

who they told last night to go fuck himself,

but he was busy teleporting back to the 1880s

to save several villages from scarlet fever

so didn't have the time to damn their eyes,

so the ex-Polish army guy checking I.D. at the door

waiting to cut loose

was willing on behalf of management

to go fuck their lives up instead

for a roof to lie low under for the next few nights,

at least until it all died down, of course

John Doyle became a Mod again in the summer of 2017 to fight off his impending mid-life crisis; whether this has been a success remains to be seen. He has has two collections published to date, A Stirring at Dusk in 2017, and Songs for Boys Called Wendell Gomez in 2018, both on PSKI's Porch. 

He is based in Maynooth, County Kildare, Ireland. All he asks is that you leave your guns at the door and tie up your horses before your enter.