bottoms up

this annum saw us In so much
but I was Out as well
Although we dared not fingers touch
stories from my soul did tell

So much In – we locked down hard
obeyed the rules – our State House filled
with men whose brains are made of lard
someday we’ll count just whom they killed

The Coming Out part – I’m quite proud
I’ll even wave a flag
Don’t care that some find me TOO LOUD
won’t still my lips or wear a gag

My meter is all o’er the place
first 8, then 6, then 7
Things change just when I find a pace
perhaps I’ll try eleven

This year defies description, no?
I’d like to add “me, too!”
we’re taking what they’re giving, though;
we might’s well drink the brew.

Sláinte!