Force fed so much aggravation, I have gagged. I've fled my torments.
Now, I'm outside with a beer to watch the wind rough up the trees,
Whose leaves have only started turning. Too bad, wind, they won't
Be stripped. I'm pleased to see one aggravation blocked as I retreat
From mine, which can't be halted easily. The beer's a help, the autumn
Sun. I've locked the door in from the deck to feel relieved for twelve
Full ounces. After that, I'll come inside, where surely I'll be stripped.