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He scorns all these young potheads and their habits.
He vows he’d never do a thing like that.
He pours himself a glass of amber liquid,
Locates his keys and dons his tattered hat.

He drives down the street a little over legal,
He surely doesn’t want to check in late.
The light turns red just as he gets right to it,
He drives on through, he hasn’t time to wait.

He’s just a good old boy and steady worker.
His boss depends on him, he’s told him so.
He is admired by all his fellow workers.
Although he drinks a bit, it doesn’t show.

He carries a big lunch pail and a thermos
And counts the hours as they go slowly by.
It’s not so much he’s hungry, but he’s thirsty,
When a man works hard, he gets a little dry.

The afternoon goes slower than the morning.
It seems the hours grow longer every day.
He’s thinking of the tavern on the corner.
He always stops in there to cash his pay.

His dried out supper doesn’t even tempt him
He tells his wife, “No man can eat this slop.”
Just to be sure she understands the message
He throws it on the floor, “Now get the mop.”

As she bends down to try to mop the juices
Before they run across her nice clean floor,
He gives her a small nudge with his sharp boot tip,
And warns her if she hollers, she’ll get more.

Next morning he awakens with the daybreak,
In good humor and no memory of the night.
His wife shrugs off his hug and keeps on sleeping,
And he feels a bit rejected at the slight.

On the TV, cops arrest a drunken driver
As he’s filling up his thermos at the sink.
He shakes his head and says “It is a pity.
A guy who cannot hold his ‘likker’, shouldn’t drink.”




I consider this my best twisted poem because I was trying to show the twisted thinking of the individual in the poem and how we do not see ourselves as we truly are.
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