helpless against the ice colored frost
he played tambourine with brandy
falling between stumbles
leaping at the chance
to dislocate
but rendered vulnerable
against his own vanity

I can handle my liquor

a false answer
to an unasked question
home time
my crumbled cigar wrapper
slow swaying stagger
of humiliation
“it is always the last drink
that gets you”
he says
stinking of distillery
irresponsibility & taxi cab ride
piecing together false memories
and conversations that may or may not have…
never mind that now
our over drunk hero
needs a costume change
into night clothes and bed sheets
though I suppose
he won’t take anything off
waking in the disheveled sunrise
searching for lost things



no bruises,

we should consider a meeting
or maybe a meal
larger than cup cakes and chicken drumettes
maybe next time
my dehydrated confused disoriented friend
you have calls to make
a few apologizes I presume
but who knows what happened
last night
you don’t that’s for sure

you should really slow down on the drinking, sir
she says with obvious condescension in her voice.

his response inaudible inarticulate & unimportant
for him the night is over
he makes it to the coach
sleeps soundly
and when he is awaken by the bells
chiming in his head
the contents of his belly
struggling to stay stationary
he decides he will stop drinking
for the 4th time this year

I can quit anytime I want too
he says lying,
these are minor indignities
to his selfish existence
there is no happy ending
unless liver disease
bloating bellies
and incontinence
are your idea of happy
he knows where this is going
sees the locomotive
ahead of him on the tracks speeding
brandishing sunlight
in its headlamps
he surrenders to his fate
drinks water
and says a thank you
to God again
for his safe landing
however many of them he has left…


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