Nine-Tentacled Octopus

I'm walking down a narrow street with my back to the soft wind
Cigarette in one hand, lack of drink in the other
On my way to see friends from a neighboring town
They've come from a sushi bar
Bellies full of Japanese delights
When I reach them they're already drunk
On wine and beer and Old Forester
Laughing and cheering, they welcome me to their table
I knock back a few, then a few more
Why not, I say
What the fuck have I got to lose
The room and the world start spinning
Round and round in perpetual motion
I revere the feeling of uncertain footing
We make our way to the street as the place closes
The sushi becomes rebellious in a friend and
She violently pukes it all out, long and loud
On the sidewalk, on her shoes
It truly is a foreign and aquatic mess
With that, we go our separate ways
The journey home or elsewhere is our collective focus
I struggle, and lean into that same soft wind
Asking it to carry me away