Thursday, August 25, 2011

Drunk Tank Pentameter

The night was waning, shift was ending fast,
when charge had tracked me down with this request:
please open up the doors to yonder room,
where idiots who drink avoid arrest.

Thus far I *had* been very fortunate,
escaped the boring fate it is to sit.
Well bring them on, this can't be all that bad,
With forty minutes left, why not commit?

The dank and dim-lit room was prepped and set,
the stretcher sounds came drifting to my space,
a million miles away my mind had rest',
in girlish dreams of etiquette and lace.

Hi ho- the first intoxicated hailed,
but why and how did I end up o'er here?
You're drunk, the tech who brought him in had sneered,
with that, she turned her fat and ugly rear.

Come back! My resident had yelled- in vain,
and anger, seething, hot, and fueled by drinks-
induced the large and dang'rous brute to leap
from bed with limber strength to strike the minx.

Now I had no desire to be thus stuck-
though no immediate danger came my way.
against the wall I slunk to freedom safe,
escaping waving limbs and spittle spray.

Security came quickly at my call,
my boor became a gentleman in haste.
And all was peaceful, only for a while,
because the tech returned, smirk unerased.

Now I don't really mean to yell, she said,
the panic button, you have heard of it?
Stay *in* the room, and you will be okay,
Six years, I've worked and I have not been hit.

I thanked her with a smile upon my lips,
with irony appropriately placed.
When you're here, which will happen soon, I'm sure,
You might not boast an injury-less face.

When there is malice brooding in your breast,
don't instigate my drunks and cause a mess.
Naivete may seem to be my fault,
advice like yours, I could not ---

---regardless, shifts were changing very soon,
my soft and comfy bed was calling me to sleep,
which rare occasion is a cause for glee,
though even dreams are not immune from creeps.


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