Writhing alongside you.

With baited breath
we've all confessed
to reddening our wings.
What desperate men
we've all become
while waiting for the bus.
The bears won't let you blame it
on supply-side economics.
"It's not my thing," she swore...
Play the role that's been assigned you.

Why have them, if not loaded--
and if you mean it, chambered?
"Oh, Lord..." I said and he sang out
the rest with that sad twang.
My horoscope was lying
about that four-star day.