(…or, A Young Poet’s Demise)
A
quarter life of drinking, requires sometime in life to
Pawn
everything that is pawnable, and I did!
Perhaps
my difficulty is that I had no one to advise me.
No
father, a mother that worked, a gang that drank
Like
fish seeking water, and once reached, there was
No
end to its aperture; and then an Army career,
Where
they all drank like fish too, and to recover, you must
Unlearn
bad behavior, for new behavior; and everyone I knew
Was
willing to supply my drinking, like a butcher
Or
grocer, my credit was good. No one I came in contact with
Was
teaching the virtues of sobriety! When possible I wrote
My
poetry, lest I get brain-fog, most of that is in my
Book:
“The Other Door”, my first book of writings
Dating
back to my High School Days. Back then I
Knew
only poor men’s poems, like cheap whisky!
And
so, poetry and drinking per near started the same year:
Poetry
at twelve, and my first beer at thirteen!
This
poem here being the last poem of the day, No: 4517,
About
as many beers as I have drank in a year, a good year!
Back
in the day, back when I was that fish with an open tab,
With
the butcher and grocer, and space to consume…
No: 4516
(8-9-2014)
