feeling drunk
reminds me of being in love –
like I’m stuck between
thinking I’ve got the luck and
knowing I can’t afford this much

but just enough and just right
look the same when
I don’t know the name of the
last person who I gave mine

and the time keeps like
orange garnishes
on a glass –
one after another after another
like the best lover
that doesn’t stop –
won’t stop –
please don’t stop

yet ‘ought tos’ and ‘would yous’
still drink like
“how could yous” and
fresh abuse gets confused with
listening to my muse

so who’s to say
just one drink a day is enough
to keep second thoughts away
about what I really meant
the last time I said “I’m okay”

 

TM Colin Corpe 2018