I’m looking through tall glasses
trying to figure out how I got here
The once bitter tasting liquid
sliding down easier now
shoulda’s
coulda’s
woulda’s
flashing past me as I glance
at the ice dancing in my 5th refill
My eyes becoming blurred
head pounding, stomach queasy
Having my fill of 80 proof
it’s time to stagger home
pondering the thought of when
I will stop needing these evening cocktails
to face the dreaded mornings




9 old applause
