Navajo nightmare

So we killed off the cab sav
started in on the shiraz
until the dozing Beast
succumbed to the curse
of narcoleptic statistics--
sent his purple-lipped cohort
a-stumbling down the street.

But before that secret sojourn
being careful not to slam doors
and wake the sleeping T-shirt
a multitude of myths were discussed
and left for dead--
the most pertinent being the existence
of a dashing young damsel still owning all her wits
and moreover plausibility
of her interest in a lush

while the words read wrong
or the wine did no justice
though it never does, never does
and I couldn't spell
Nez Perce.

(Not to disappoint
but he's not
fall-down drunk yet
and stopped the sieve
an hour ago
not intending to return.)