The first time I drank alcoholically was when I was 17. A thing had just happened, and I couldn't sleep. I was selling pints of hard alcohol to my classmates by then, and thought, "Well, I have a liquor store in my closet...a little nip will help me sleep." It did! Wonder of Wonders! Thus began my real affair with alcohol. I knew it was problem drinking, but ignored this fact and kept at it. Even in high-school, I was obsessed. I would painfully wait for the weekend.
Many baffling stories later, I present this poem to you, about my affair. It's titled "A Affair," because, well, AA. Anywho, stick this in, break it off, and let The Bone stay inside you:
A Affair
I’m in love with Alcohol.
She’s my hottie, my main
squeeze.
I can have a different lover
every night.
A Manhattan when I want a
city sophisticate,
a White Russian for my identity
crisis,
Sex on the Beach for the exhibitionist
in me.
And Coors sweating cold for
the Cowboys,
Bloody Marys when I wanna
ride that Red Tide.
a Hurricane for a quick
fuck up
and a Black Cow for those
lonely Nebraska evenings…
Alabama Slammer for those southern
sheriff nights,
fuzzy navels for my fixation
and a stiff Tom Collins when
I want to reverse the roles
and get fucked up
my ass and a Shirley Temple when I want
to take a life but have no
balls so I fuck one up.
She’s perfect for parties.
Champagne for a formal,
cans of Bud for the big game,
Vodka and Red Bull
for all-night raves.
And this lady, like Jesus,
saves.
All the affairs I’ve had with
gin, tequila, scotch on the
rocks
are forgiven on Sunday with a
little bit of wine
three
hail Mary’s
and Hennessy for after the sermon
because I ain’t yet filled
with the spirit.
And even 80-year-old Brandy
can go all night,
can fuck me till I sleep, and
when I wake she’s always there –
She never leaves me lonely.
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