finding your way back home
friday night limousine riders
speeding some seventy
miles per hour
cut up lemons and dispense
margaritas without rocks
outside airport secret police
intercept intelligence and
issue search warrants
briskly escorting illicit riders
to a flight of their life
dropped behind enemy lines
grown boys sober up quickly
burning camouflaged parachutes
and skirting the edges
hoping to find their way home
</span>
october two thousand fourteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 
I could really feel this one. Excellent.
I’m pleased knowing you think so, thank-you, Mikels.
Crazy nights! I’ve been there
Hello Lola – thanks so much for commenting on this poem!
The recklessness of youth.
Oh yes, and sometimes youth is stolen away.