One Alone

When you’re ill, all you can taste
Is that detestable liquorice de-coughing crap.
When you’re drunk you can’t taste the
difference between beers, even though you’re a snob.
The pale ale local brew is the same as the Scottish corp.
that sells better but doesn’t know the meaning of better.
After you get done thinking you’ve enjoyed some good
bitter, you can hit the sack like a sack of crap,
like a knight in shining armor that’s too lazy
to take off his greaves.
The two inch memory foam on top of your mattress
is sliding off like it knows that you want it to not.
What a bitch.
The two inch de-memory foam on top of your glass
is a pain in the ass, and you want it to go so you can
have one last pint before you crash.
But sleep is an enigma, and when you have it
you don’t know what it is. When you don’t have it,
it becomes a beer-like nectar that makes you feel
better instead of worse.

I told that crazy girl to give yourself to the graveyard,
whatever the fuck that means.
I think I knew when I postulated, but I had already given
myself, and so enlightenment sat in my lap,
like a child that I could smother,
and meld to my whims, and make that poor infant
into a robotic amaze-machine that would glory me
in his presentation to all of my friends.
It’s a sick practice we’ve adopted to shape that
which we have no business in shaping.
Nature can manage, and it’s a better father than
what I’ve experienced, and it will live till the end of time.

Now, like black magic, this beer disappears, and it
slips down my gullet like a seed into a bird.
It tastes like funky bread in a blue and yeller can,
and it fits like a glove in the palm of my hand.
I’ve forgotten why I drank it, but there it is again,
a trip down the gutter to where my friends have lived,
a memory in my head of sweet Mary looking drunk,
and me being even in the race.
Do I long for the innocence of when I once didn’t know?
No, I crave the experience of forgetting all I know.
Though my mother disapproves, I know that she will find a way
to forget what she taught me, to find a way to love what I do
for she loves me more than virtue.

(From June 2013)

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