Moscow Mule

John Doe
was a humble man.
A blue-collared worker
with a restless hand.

Worked in a highway,
east end 102.
Sealing roads,
chopping stone
with a dumb’s man ox.

Down home,
laid.
He’d play pool,
act too cool for school.

Come Johnny go get that fuel
the one you get
from a pill,
coloured blue.

He’d binge drink
on a solo Moscow Mule.
John Doe aren’t you,
just an
inevitable fool?