IF I WAS AN EMPTY WHISKEY BOTTLE
Four Roses—a congregation of flowers,
never smelled so sweet, until its drained
to the last drop. Beware of a man
that doesn’t relish the pleasure
of a smooth, stiff drink.
I will have fascinating stories to tell
about women under the influence
who moved their hips like go-go girls.
Amorous encounters were both consenting
and assaultive without a hint of mercy.
“Candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker”
to reveal the face behind the mask.
The tough get tougher—the maudlin weep.
Cops, guilty of hitting their wives and hitting
the bottle, get drunk and kill themselves.
Don’t wear black when you say goodbye—
rusting memory clings to the bones.
Grief unites us.