May 31, 2011 - 0500

My Monday actually fell on a Monday. And it was hot outside. Around 80 degrees when I arrived at work around 2230. So much for a nice spring to lead into the summer months. It was also a holiday weekend, which I had off. It was spent with my beautiful wife doing things, but nothing in particular. And then back to work, where we got a bit of work to do right out of the chute.

This poem is in the concrete poem style. Not rhyming or rigidly metered, the style is characterized by it's shape. The words are used to show as well as tell.

                      Broken Glass Door


   The night tonight was warm. Sweaty,  sultry   warm
   My usual first night back talk cut short by    burglars
   Location?                                       Same as  before
   Business                                       Different this time
   But only                                            2 doors down
   Lights on                                               Guns ready
   We found                                         Nothing inside
   The register                                       was open and
   empty. The                                    owner could not
   be reached.                                      Funny that she
   will probably                                protest tomorrow
   about the                                          bill to board up
   her business, but she also authorized   the  service if
   she could not  be  reached.  Not  really  my concern.
   Board up man                                        was a hoot
   Boots. Jorts.                                  Cowboy hat and
   American                                                Flag t-shirt
   Stay classy                                            North shore
   It took 30                                       to close the door
   The call lasted                                         three hours
   Afterwards I                                   drove round and
   round and                                          round. No one
   was out. Until                                    there they were
   2 people by a closed                                    business
   Stranded so                                         close to home
   but too far to walk by an overpriced taxi driver. They
   got a ride to the car. Courtesy of the police. For  free

May 28, 2011 - 0500

Despite the rain and crap weather, my wonderful wife came to work with me. This is exciting for me, because I love my job and like to show off at work for her. Unfortunately, things didn't work out as planned.

This set of verses is in a style called memoriam stanzas. The meter is iambic tetrameter, based on the poem "In Memoriam A.H.H." by Alfred, Lord Tennyson. Rhyme is simple and quick, just like tonight at work.

Shortened Ride-Along


She came with me to see me work
I tried and tried to make it fun
A car we stopped for stop sign run
A valet, nice, and not a jerk

Then I was called to see the man
And to the station I did drive
My Baby left for home to thrive
While I was stuck with anger grand

30 minutes he stood and yelled
I felt like I could not just leave
He wears emotions on his sleeve
And I the stories hear him tell

Town started full but soon dropped off
One by one the bars did empty
With no one out I stopped to see
A barman, and my hat I doffed

Half an hour left for business
And only one was still in use
The crowd thinned like down on a goose
When I drove up and ended this

Maybe it worked out she went home
Baby would not have seen too much
No fights or stops, arrests and such
Just driving and the tires drone

May 27, 2011 - 0510

There was a break in the continuity yesterday, due to several unforeseen circumstances. Dog at the vet, water inadvertently turned off at the house. I just didn't think it was a good idea to let all of that slide just for the sake of poetry.

So, I come back tonight, slightly tired but feeling creative. Alliteration is the name of tonight's game, and I tried like the dickens to make it work as often as possible.

Almost All Alliteration After Hours
                    - or -
Picking A Particular Piece For A Poem


After arguing aloud about an absence of agua,
The tired trooper took his tuckus to bed
Rising well rested he ran his regular routine
Before bidding bye-bye to Baby and babies

Driving down dusty and dreary drives
He hoped whole heartedly for heavy amounts of humans
City sidewalks were steeped with several sots
Carousing and cavorting, all cheerful and charming

Seeing several sedans sidle southbound, he sped up
Wrong way was the why and what of the warning
Nothing notable netted; next nudnick please
But barely a brougham bounded the boulevards

The tippled took taxis towards their townhouses
Many a masterful means, making my mind mush
By bounding the byways of businesses a-bustling
Early entrants, exited early also

Lunchtime luckily loomed soon ahead
Sandwich sanctity stifled by citizens cellphone calls
Rummy running rampant in robes rustling loosely
Nowhere nearby, nothing but nature, nobody noted

May 25, 2011 - 0505

After a nice break, it was back to the grind on Monday night. And by grind, I mean a slow midnight shift. This isn't unusual where I work, but it doesn't make it any easier. Each Sunday and Monday enter and pass away as if they are slowing dying of some wasting disease. And with that thought, I decided to write an epitaph for Mondays in my town.

Here Lies Another Monday


Here lies another Monday
Ushered in by wind and cold
Sent out with the same

Here is entombed my brief conversation
With morning fast approaching
I was left alone by my peer

Look not for the night shift gone
It left us all wanting more
But gave us only the usual crawling of time

As the hunter takes down two
Do not cry for their demise
The wounds were as but scratches on paper

Fare thee well Monday
Until we meet again
Monday next. Farewell.

May 22, 2011 - 0510

I'm not sure what to call tonight's verses. It's kind of a song, kind of an ode, kind of a lyric poem. Hmm... You're all grown folks, you can decide for yourselves.

There were lots and lots of pickled pedestrians out tonight, and I quickly found out why. Fortunately, they were all good people just out for a good time.

It Wasn't So Bad, This Night


Driving in was fine, no worries about my night
My town was fairly busy, with lots of cars in sight
I noticed groups of people on the sidewalks to and fro
Wondering to myself I ask "Where can these drunkards go?"

After changing from my day to eve I wandered up the stairs
The afternoon shift sat un-tensed, the work no longer theirs
I asked about the people out, and why there were so many
The answer that I got shown bright, just like a brand new penny

Pub Crawl

There were pods of eight to ten, with one the sober driver
He was spotted in the group, a sad and bitter sight there
Or if they all were drinking deep, a car they did not use
The taxi men made all their money from the denizens of booze

Pub Crawl

Alas all things come to an end, and this was no exception
Two hours past the witching bells was like a post-convention
Streets and walkways that once held many now were cold and bare
Power walkers and power drinkers had left the city fair

Pub Crawl

I drove the town all up and down until I could no more
Stopping in at a pub that's safe I talked to people at the door
At one time they'd had a century's worth of happy drunken faces
Now the bar stools all sat empty, here and at other places

Pub Crawl

To my right I heard the voices, shrill and slurred with drink
"I'll drive my car!" and "No you won't!" was the reason for the stink
Partner and I made presence felt and they walked home in disgust
Better that than take the ride for a stupidity bust

Pub Crawl

To reason with long forgotten gangsters was easier than thought
Asked to leave, they hit the road. A battle quickly fought
Inside the bar past closing time was another kind of pickle
Spotlights and some angry words, not at all meant to tickle

Pub Crawl

Despite the ending the week was good and had ended well
No injuries or death or or angry people were brought in on a swell
My break is here, but I'll be back with more stories and more rhyming
There's always something to put on paper, even if wrecked by the timing

May 21, 2011 - 0500

It was so foggy when I left for work I couldn't see my car parked across the street from my house. And it only got worse when I got to work. But it did make it easy for people to be stopped, evidenced by my 5 traffic stops for the night. Too bad not one of them was drunk.

Tonight is a classic Italian sonnet. Iambic pentameter and a rigid rhyme structure that I held to quite nicely, if I do say so. Straight forward into the events of the evening.

Misty Busy Shoreside Night


The soup of fog lay all on the city
It stayed with us almost the whole night through
And though she saw, she did not stop. It's true
that striking walkers is never pretty

No lights at night and I will stop you cold
Run a stop sign and soon we two shall meet
Driving wrong way down a road is a feat
No drunks were driving these cars I was told

The girls who took the flowers, out again
Making merry at the same small tavern
The fog left and we had a clear view then

I saw two girls in a car sitting plain
One was male inside the nights dark cavern
And one more stop to bring night to an end

May 20, 2011 - 0505

It was fairly busy for a Thursday night in our little town. I say this because lately the Thursdays have been painfully slow and quiet. But there turned out to be a few little things that added up to making the night pass by. Here's the free verse version of our evening.

Just Enough


It seemed busier in town than I'd seen in a while
I was right
Lots of cars all over, patrons at every bar having a good time
But nothing moving
An astute and observant person told us of a fire on the army base
It was steam
Not long after that we helped out brethren with a drunk driver
None for us
I watched three guys walking all over the town, looking strange
They couldn't sleep
As I was driving along later I counseled two drunk women about stealing
They took flowers
Finally, cars and people began the end of night bar shuffle
One didn't stop
Nearly being broadsided by a perfectly sober person gave me pause
Made him cry
Last but not least, an open car door to wrap up the night
It was fine

May 19, 2011 - 0500

It was another nice quiet night in town tonight. There were a few people about but for the most part, with the local college kids gone away there hasn't been much going on lately. But there was enough to bring you a few lines.

The couplet is a series of two liners. Usually with the same meter, with each one rhyming. It's quick, fun and easy to remember.

Silent Night Couplets


The other supervisor left for home before midnight
He sounded angry and sick, so I put up no fight

No matter what I tried, there were no cars to stop
Wednesdays are sometimes like that. Little go. Mostly stop.

My partner found a car while I was far away
By the time I got to them, he'd sent them on their way

While I roamed the town, a car passed on my left
Headed to the hospital, up from their cozy nest

My only other contact was with a crazy man
We denied his ride to home. It wasn't in our plan.

To round out my non-work I burned a DVD
DUI's from days ago, revived to amuse me

May 16, 2011 - 0500

What a night. And by that I mean not a dang thing went on. No calls, no traffic, no people to annoy or assist. I wasn't even harangued by anger and bitterness at the beginning of my shift. And this was reason enough to celebrate.

Everyone knows the phrase "carpe diem" from the movie Dead Poets Society. To seize the day is a pretty cool sentiment. And a poem in this style is a celebration of the moment, no matter how large or small. Tonight was filled with little celebrations.

No Guarantees, So Smile


Though I did not do much in the way of policing
I felt successful tonight
Tomorrows sunrise is not guaranteed
Each days successes are to be enjoyed

Before I arrived I said I love you my wife
It's a tradition with us each night
The end of your day isn't written in stone
Be sure the ones you love, know that you do

Thinking that I would be trapped by cynacism
I was surprisingly released after only an hour
Routines aren't always routine in my job
I'll take each change with a smile

I took only a few laps before manning my desk
Looking forward to papers and disks to burn
Rare is the night where I have true admin work
I relished the feeling of being a supervisor

My desk is now clean and no more papers are out
I can't wait for my love to call as she drives
Early morning conversations make my Friday a joy
My family and my job make me the happiest

Remember that nothing is sure in your life
Hold close the things that you love
Bad times will pass and give way to laughter
Each day should be celebrated, whether busy or calm

May 15, 2011 - 0520

A little late, but not due to technical errors. We had some late night/early morning fun time which kept me from getting to the notebook in a timely manner. But now I'm here, it's done and I can pass the wordy goodness on to you.

I was thinking that I would try a burlesque poem, but I'm not sure I captured the spirit of the form. It's supposed to take a serious subject and treat it in a humorous way. I looked for examples on other sites and many that I found weren't at all humorous. Some were actually pretty grim. So, maybe I did since there isn't any structure or rhyme sequence.

Running In The Rain


I can't be upset when he doesn't show up
And another has taken his place
The difference in experience alone
Is more than enough when I don't see his face

Try as I could I just can't get upset
When the next town's coppers get theirs
Barely able to stand she was whisked far away
With  rain droplets in her greazy hairs

All over our town in the drizzle and cold
Looking for the one magic stop
Headlight? No. No lights on? No.
All the while the temperature continued to drop

The overtime guards were changed halfway through
Experience giving way to youth
A lawyers office was found unsecured in the dark
With all of their working exposed, that's the truth

Mist and cold and drizzly drips
Increased until it was rain
Not making our night expire any faster
But enough to keep a spring in our hips

May 14, 2011 - 0510

It seems like I just posted something today, but it was actually yesterday late. And I wish there were more to opine on, but a drastic change in weather combined with a lot of recent college graduates packing up and leaving meant that tonight wasn't anything to jump about as far as calls for service were concerned.

The evening is documented with a sestina. A pretty interesting structure, with no rhymes or meter. But the words at the end of the sentences repeat in various ways throughout the entire poem. It made it easy to come up with the last word of each sentence, but putting the rest of the words in front of it was the challenge.

The Night Seemed To Go On and On


Despite the date and it's evil ways
I didn't hold high hopes for action
The weather had turned from warm to cold
Leading my mind to a state f dullness and slow
It carried on this way as I drove into my town
My hope was that there would be things to do

We changed from civilian to cops, like our hair-do
I check my equipment constantly, set in my ways
After checking that all was quiet in town
Partner and I set out to seek our action
But my suspicions were right, the town was slow
With most people being kept in by the cold

Not winter time, no snow, not that kind of cold
The kind that keeps you inside with nothing to do
A shiver in the air, that makes your watch slow
Wondering how the nights pass in these long ways
But still, I prowled around hoping for action
Never to come, never to arrive, in our town

Lack of people made time stand still in town
I couldn't go out jacketless into the cold
Whenever I heard a sound, I thought it was action
Craning around to see what there was to do
As a more veteran copper I'm kind of set in my ways
It amazed me that the town was so slow

I got out of my car, took a walk nice and slow
Staying active can be tough in such a small town
Being creative  and looking around for new ways
to find something to do when it's cold
Pulling on doors is just what I do
When I find one open, then we spring into action

After that's done we hunt for more action
Despite my cars speed, I still drive slow
Passing my squad car isn't something you do
Even though we work in such a small town
I think sometimes I'm too nice when it's cold
No tickets, just scolded and sent other ways

The stories aren't too exciting when there's nothing to do
We all took this job because we crave action

And sometimes it's easy to get set in your ways
When working and policing a town slow

But crime still happens in our tiny town
And won't necessarily stop because it's cold

May 13, 2011 - 2330

A little late, but there was site maintenance going on behind the scenes at Blogger.

Tonight is a ballad. A simple form with a repeating refrain. This was one of the easier ones to set to paper. And yes, I hand write them all first before putting them here. I can, and do, self edit on paper before I self edit again on the screen.

We had a good night for a Friday the 13th. At least, I did any way. I had to endure about two hours of a co-worker venting before I could get out of the station. The nice weather kept us kind of busy, but not so much that it was crazy. And every knucklehead was out of town by about 0230. Except for a couple.

 The Ballad of The Nice Day, Nicer Night


No matter the day of the week I see him
He's always in a bad mood
Convinced he's the best, but he should be in a museum
And on his forehead a little plaque glues

He's done nothing wrong to hear the man tell it
And there's no saying anything other
And as long as he's breathing he'll never un-tell it
Whether fellow employee or mother

Remember that someone is always watching
Someone is listening too
Be sure and stay focused, don't stray off the topic
Or you'll end up looking the fool

The town was quite empty, few people or cars
If I'd wanted I could have been speeding
So dead was out town they were closing the bars
While the limits in town I was heeding

Stopped for a second I looked at my phone
And out of the distance I could hear it
A blur of blue metal flew past all alone
So very close; yes I was near it

Remember that someone is always watching

Someone is listening too

Be sure and stay focused, don't stray off the topic

Or you'll end up looking the fool

The smell of the booze hit my nose like a fist

But the tests weren't really too awful

Arrested and handcuffed, she now made the list

Of the crying girls- I've had my craw full

Cooperation was the name of the game

And soon enough she was set free

A quick check in the station found she had quite a name

Unfortunately, she ran into me

Remember that someone is always watching

Someone is listening too

Be sure and stay focused, don't stray off the topic

Or you'll end up looking the fool

At the end of the night, all seemed quiet and calm

A voice split the fabric of night

Drunk girl number 2, with a bright blue shawl on

Was stopped and given a fright

She never saw us coming as I led the way

Unmarked and unfettered by lights

Admonished and humbled we finished our day

With lunch and laughs at their plights

Remember that someone is always watching

Someone is listening too

Be sure and stay focused, don't stray off the topic

Or you'll end up looking the fool

May 10, 2011 - 0515

This one is posting a bit later than usual. My highly advanced desktop locked up on me, and it took almost 20 minutes to come back from the dead so that I could figure out which style to immortalize this particular Monday in. And I found it in the Pindaric Ode.

It wasn't an easy write, what with the rhyme structure and meter being fairly regulated. But for a first go at it I'm happy with the results. This is not an atypical Monday around where I work.

Ode To Monday Night


How many times must we go there
Alarm set off by maiden fair
Yet when we show on beery scene
To us fair maid is not keen
And so we leave the tavern in haste
For all this night there is time to waste.

We drive the streets, no one's about
Action tonight? I have my doubts.
The lack of people makes me frown
They are the lifeblood of the town
Don't wonder why the numbers are so low
Come out one Monday night and then you'll know

We finally got a call this night
Suspicious men in house to right
We found them and they told us true
Birthday party, the owner knew
And so we left them to their beer and wine
They had not broken in, all was fine.

.

May 9, 2011 - 0510

I was surprised when I went to tag this post and Haiku didn't auto fill. I was sure that I'd written at least one before. A widely known and easily recognized form of Japanese poetry, the five/seven/five meter is easy to write. No rhyme structure means the writer doesn't have to labor over what may or may not rhyme or come close.

On Sunday, it was empty in the town. When it's like this, the most difficult thing to do is not crash the car while driving. I do that by getting out of the car and walking around, looking for something to get into.

A Series of Slow Sunday Haikus


1) 
Cold night on Sunday
I have to wear my coat still
I thought it was May

2)
No cars out tonight
We were driving north and south
And still there were none

3)
I walk to wake up
I spoke to no one. Not one
Person on the sidewalks here

4)
Doors unlocked. I'm in
Doctors office is at risk
Patient files to take

5)
The town is not big
Less than one mile end to end
I made several laps

6)
City and union
We don't see eye to eye now
I'll lose sleep for this

May 8, 2011 - 0500

What a night. It started off slow and quiet. Sure there were lots of people in town, but everyone was curious but well behaved. That all ended at about 0100, when it seemed like all Hell broke loose. Call after call after call. It makes the night go by, but it's also a little harrowing.

It's a free verse night, because it felt like the way to get everything out and sorted. The events depicted here all took place between about 0100 and 0330.

This Is Policing


While on the phone with my wonderful wife
The call came out, a man with a knife
We sped right in, taking chances to save a life

The call it turned out was not legit
And one cop was assaulted by a drunken git
Too much booze and no humor for the obviously lit

Back to a stop where a little drunk man
Waited patiently with cell phone in hand
He wanted to drive, but we ended that plan

He phoned a friend and I answered a call
For a bearded one-eyed man who'd enthralled
The passers at the train station wall

Smelling of piss and hump backed like a whale
We pawned him off on a neighboring trail
Not into our cars would he place his tail

From there it was back to the main part of town
Lap after lap, I went round and round
Asking skateboarding kids to take care and not to fall down

Once more by the bar and away again
And there on the sidewalk in front of all men
A rummy was peeing, the asphalt and urine did blend

His birthday it was, 21 by two hours
I had him zip up and told him not to cower
A check and a smile sent him back to his college tower

Now it was three and the bars were all closing
Rowdy loud drunks on the walk ways are mosing
Loud voices ring out, two drunkards are nose to nosing

One kissed the ex-girlfriend right on the lips
And had placed his hands upon her hips
We shooed them away and after made a few choice quips

Finally a fire alarm at a new condo-plex
Awakening firemen who looked fairly vexed
It was nothing I'd soon find out via text

Just as I was about to have lunch
The radio crackled with traffic a-bunch
Someone asleep in their car. Drunk? It's a hunch.

Sober and happy the man was just tired
Sent on his was so from his jobs he not fired
Walking, not driving, because no license was where he was mired

A couple more laps and finally repast
The action had ceased, it just couldn't last
Being tired is now the thing of which I'm aghast

May 7, 2011 - 0510

Tonight was a nice, cool but not cold, busy but not packed in town, work night. It started immediately with an alleged battery with a baseball bat and then flowed smoothly into a pretty nice DUI arrest. In between I was inundated with attitude, anger, and lots of other emotions.

The poem of the evening is a Rhyme Royal. Iambic pentameter, as much as I could stick to it, with a pretty easy rhyme sequence. If you use words that rhyme. I decided to challenge myself to use words from a list my wife sent to me of words without exact rhymes. That was the challenge tonight, and I like to think that I stepped up nicely.

Steady Work, If You Can Keep Up With It


When I came in to work I felt no angst
It appeared to be simple, no depth
We were about to speak and then I sprang
From chair, to door, to car, averting death
Or so it sounded as we crossed the breadth
Of town and back, but nothing could oblige
The space we'd leapt, our fuel was like a tithe

Please don't call me when we're on the cusp
Now is not the time. We cannot oblige
When clear I'll call and then we can discuss
That which burns you, and makes you feel alive
Or the thoughts that in your brain seem to writhe
Inside your mind we all have seen or glimpsed
We don't like to see, but you give us hints

And then, drunk girl, makeup smeared like plankton
Nearly hitting cars should light ones brain bulb
Three times over makes us all feel quite stunned
Your car was towed, a German metal hull
Your friend left you with us and your trouble
You pulled yourself from the heat of the kiln
But remember when you lie, it's on film.

May 4, 2011 - 0535

I took "poetic" license with this selection, an ABC poem. I didn't start with A and so forth, but wanted to make this my own and unique. It's only five lines long, but if worded properly, it can speak volumes. Sometimes, words can be more harmful to the speaker than the listener.

Do You Even Know What Year It Is?


Remember, that when you run your mouth
Sometimes it can come back to haunt you
There are consequences to your words
Usually, they are unwanted

Very often, a change can be made, but the person who needs to is unwilling.

April 3, 2011 - 0500

Sundays and Mondays are typically slow. Most of the business that can be open when I work, mainly bars, are closed or only really cater to locals who can't seem to give up the booze for even a single day. It's usually quite peaceful and calm, which led me to today's selection, the idyll. A type of poem that depicts a calm, usually pastoral, scene. There aren't any pastures or scenes of farming around here, but it was overall a quiet night. With one exception, narrated here.

Monday Idle Idyll

The breeze blew through the evening time

A gentle brush past shaven cheek

Another midnight shift was mine

The midpoint of my week

There were few cars upon the streets

The sidewalks had no citizens walking

A check of bars, where people meet

Found gentlefolk a-simply talking

Around and round I pushed my car

Unmarked and stealthy to the eye

Attempts to nab a bad guys car

Were futile under darkened sky

As I was giving up my hopes this eve

My cruiser set to park and idle

Partners voice cracked radio static weave

My way to him I made my sidle

The apparent drunk was flailing and failing

His tests afield showed him impaired

Agitation grew from his voice a-wailing

Myself and partner, we simply stared

After letting gentleman vent his frustrations apparent

The partner flew for his final option

My job, to calm a harried sir and about the cold we did lament

He knew we were merely working, at a job he could not shun

Upon return with box and mouth tubes

A steady stream of air he loosed

His non-intoxication bubble burst my partners views

Tired only and fear assuaged, his home he went to roost

Commended for his job well done, we parted

Partner and I. To the next call on the sheet

To finish tasks and end problems started

By others who dared not walk our empty streets

May 2, 2011 - 0510

I'm not one to jump on a bandwagon for much of anything, but some things are simply too big to pass up. We had a DUI arrest tonight, and it was a doozy. Asleep at the wheel, lots of cursing and crying. But before that, before the shift started, there was news. Big news, that had an effect on everyone in the country, the same way related big news had an effect on the country about 10 years ago. And so, I give you my take on both events.

It's a villanelle. Highly structured rhyme and verse patterns, and a somewhat structured rhythm pattern. Once you get two parts figured out, you have half of the poem done. The rest is finding things to fit in the middle.

Where Were You


Where were you on that morn
Did you cry or were you mad
When a nations heart was torn

Ten years our attention stood
And our country became glad
Where were you on that morn

In halls of justice there I stood
Giving words that make men sad
When a nations heart was torn

Interrupted while I made wrongs good
Sent away with a sweep of a pad
Where were you that morn

I heard the news, checked under car hood
And wondered what we really had
When a nations heart was torn

The news told us what it could
And now the people are glad
Where were you on that morn
When a nations heart was torn

May 1, 2011 - 0500

Tonight was a nice, warm and breezy evening. There were lots of people about, but try as we may we just couldn't get into anything. But we did have a few items of note, and I bring them to you in the form of a Terza rima. It took me a minute to get used to the rhyme scheme, as there is a hold over from the previous stanza. But once I got used to it, it was fairly easy to adhere to.

First Good Warm Night


My night started the way most first nights start
With ranting and raving about himself
The anger's his way of shielding his heart

I left fairly early, words on a shelf
Behind new apartments a drunkard slept
Peaceful, face down in the dirt like an elf

We helped him inside, to his home he crept
The door was too heavy, or he too drunk
To the bed he fell, in the bed he slept

Our main source of trouble, filled with young punks
But nary a call did we respond to
Often it's our source for those who're skunk drunk

At bar close there's action, men in a fight
Camera phones took pictures, as we took charge
Just friends they were, no melee this night

One car stopped in hopes a drunkard be found
And a second in straight away fashion
Neither panned out, they were shoo'ed from town

High hopes we had for some kind of action
The first good warm night had no drunk passion