Getting the Point

It was a night you were sure
you smelled something burning
every where you went
the sky still with no clouds
thick swampy heat
popping up off the asphalt
and we were in this jungle
sand poisoning our clothes
drinking
smoking
thinking about sex
he was dropping pills
he liked that kinda loose
I'm on a whiskey tequila excursion
with my favorite jeans
the ones I never wash
and every one worries
but us
not us
with a live bootleg record
coming through the car stereo
burping up beer suds
with menthol chaser
our only worry
is to live past thirty