the miraculous alcoholics will buy your friendship with a shot.
then they’ll renovate new year’s eve,
fill the glasses of the feral underclass.
beer-soaked musketeers, they’ll veer
into revolutionary spheres:
they’ll bow after starting a row
and raise a fracas,
in the noisemaking name
of shitfaced bacchus.
they’ll kidnap dick clark,
and make him dance drunk and naked,
skyscrapered atop the empire state.
snockered kropotkins with the conscience
of missiles, knocking down restroom stalls,
stealing keys to the city
from scared mayor and pissing officials,
they’ll take control like untrained crane operators
whose swinging demolition machines
smash times square crystal to smithereens.
they’ll drop their shangri-la
like a whiskey-filled wrecking ball,
declare a valhalla of free alcohol for all.