Our celestial body turns
and so does yours.

Glass of whiskey held high.
Broad brimmed hat on your head.

The band plays faster now;
bass, mandolin, drums
and liquor soaked vocals,
until mother earth is anchored up,
with all those demons
lying unconscious
on the floor.

Drummer Boy clutches
his pair of sticks
between two fingers
as you smile exuberantly
and start for the sanctuary
of an Irish pub's inner quarters.