How To Drink/What’s Your Problem?

Old drunks at a bar-side paradise:

An enclosed patio, surrounded by lattice and gratis-what a place-ladies lack lace, most come accompanied with baggage.

 

A few of these and I’ll forget my place, yet I care to save face.

 

I should just throw away my I.D. and my wallet.

They sponsor all of this.

 

Unisex Observation:  they all look the same; bloated, speckled; unhealthy, abused, used, depleted, and ashamed, with drinks and age.  Some wear purple bruises, others look like they need a snooze, they all say they have a choice to choose.

 

I am not rude, more scared than amused.

I don’t want to see a mirror.

I might change my tune.

I might see things more clear.

What’s to lose?

 

I pray for this to not be my future-I wonder if this was their past.

 

I examine my drink, ice beading water to my hands.  Here I sit, holding this plastic glass.

 

Throwing my life in the trash.

Gulp by gulp, ash by ash.

 

This drink will get me smashed.

All excuses amassed.

 

I am ready for the criticism.

 

Here’s to you and me and us and we.  Fuck it, here’s to that one guy who overdosed-he was in Glee.

 

All wires and chords, a man sings; no one is bored, yet nothing has been absorbed.  Shocked, I am ignored.

Watch the pour-ask for more.

 

I still enjoy beating a dead horse.

 

THE IRONIC ABSENCE OF A PROBLEM:

I DON’T HAVE ONE.

 

These patrons have hardly enough energy for a proper applause.

 

Remember: lay off the sauce at all cost.

These words are muted sip by sip.

 

Who’s the sailor of this ship?  I’ll run it aground just to hear the sound.

 

This is their familiar, I have been here a few times before.

Maybe a few times less as I measure cost and score.

 

Take a long cool drink, and He winks.

I feel tip-top, now, let’s hit the door.

This is no time to stop.

 

Bartender… One more!

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