Saturday

I take my coffee black;
I take my darkness chilled;
I take my illusions sweetened,
and hope not to get killed.

I take my whiskey straight;
I take my sadness quiet;
I take my friendship savory,
and hope to survive the riot.

In the end it won't matter if she loved him-
or whether he loved her.
It will only matter if he acted
like a man or like a cur.