Drunken Boots

There they are, sprawled out on the laundry room floor,
Switched left for right, not standing up straight like usual,
Not in their normal place under the wooden bench,
Stained and smelling from spilled beer,
They walked a crooked line from the barn to the house, and
Leaned up against the old John Deere for support,
The dogs licked them when they fell,
Tugged on them to get up and then got kicked
By them to ward off some unseen assailant,
Toes down in the dirt along with knees and hands,
They reached the back door, and
Crawled into the laundry room,
Where they lie this morning,
Unable to move