My semi-anesthetized brain tells me,
"you can have one more and maintain".
I roll up onto my hands and knees, scrubbing knees and palms across the carpets short, stiff pile.
I peer blearily at the see-sawing t.v.
Feeling a little seasick at the slightly out of focus cartoons.
Old friends from a black and white childhood.
I can relate to the clay character from a childhood favorite.
I feel just like Gumby, and am probably the same shade of green at the moment.
I trip over my own feet. Lurching towards the autumn gold and
avocado green tiled and formica'd kitchen. Designer colors thirty-five years ago.
Where awaits another glass of vodka and ice tea; Ice Picks.
One more ice pick to the memories in my sodden brain.
One more for the faded, out of style, decorator colors.
One more for the rug burns on my knees and hands.
One more for the clay-mation cartoons.
One more for the hazy memories of a picture perfect childhood.
One more, though no more for me.
Author notes
Just trying to break the cycle of my writers block. I hope I followed the rules. I got the show, the drink, and the location. I think.
A contest entry
- Challenge by Annalise.
1400 points, ended November 8, 2007, 16 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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perfect description..
thanks
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Superb Plus +
Your analogies are fantastic and quite profound, indeed. You have expressed your thoughts quite well. Thanks for sharing this one with us.
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Ice Picks? If I still drank, that sounds like the drink for me. Well, that and a smooth White Russian. Man, I loved those drinks.
I really adore that last stanza. Nice work here.
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If I still drank I would most certainly have to agree with you. Course almost anything fermented and distilled was a favorite at one time or another.
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This looks perfect to me for the contest - that dreaded "one more" always does you in, doesnt it?
Bravo on this Jill!
galfalfa
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