If it wasn’t so windy

If it wasn’t so windy, we could have a fire.
I sip my bourbon with no worry of desire.
An ant crawls on my leg, I flick it off
With the respect and rigor of Eric Bischoff.
My 1920 Bourbon reminds me of prohibition,
As I smell my neighbor’s cigarette, reprobation.
Damned if you do, damned if you don’t,
Some admit folly, most won’t.
Nevertheless, it exists in all
As pride cometh before the fall.
The winds passover all who sit outside
For it is the home in which they reside
And if you think for a moment
That you are a worthy opponent,
You have no control.

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