My Christmas Day
Christmas No. 50
it's back cold again
somewhere between 35
and my fingers are
about to fall off
Christmas shows
over populate the cable
but this year i don't mind
i'm at home with mom
Christmas eve with a
hidden bottle of vodka
and the next day
Christmas a cigarette asking
where's the beer and vodka
thats suppose to go with it
it threatens me with a
heart attach
before i put it out
it was time to make the
move back home
the home where i live
(convieniantly mom has to make a pastorial visit to the hospital
i pack and am ready to go.)
and as allways
how will i get there
with the booze?
get out of moms car
and find away
metro link, walgreens, home
mission accomplished
cigarettes no longer
a threat
a few toys were delivered
before the day was over
just like santa
while the children slept
i hope they don't
wake me in the morning
the day after christmas
it's the thought that counts
right?
while on the metro i wondered
"does it mater that i spent more
on booze than presents?"
my concious is tettering
like a see saw
not really
it's sitting level
even though i mintion it
it's just a foot note in a poem
one more hour of christmas left
and less than a quarter page
for me to finish
but it will get posted
all great people have
an alcoholic stage in life
this is mine
i reach for another beer
and my drink that i make strong
for ciggie
i don't ever drink and drive
but i have an aquaintiance
who this week killed
a seventeen year old
mixing his drinking and driving
one last line paper gone
i'm sorry, everyone.
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