September Poem 58: Tennessee Rocket Fuel

Fueled on the short glasses that just appear

At the table. You just wanted one. High

Octane. To loosen up. Light the flame. But

The bartender just kept putting new ones

In your hand. And you took them. Who could let

Free liquor go to waste? You’ve been hiding

Them from your mother. She disapproves of

Your drinking. Even at the family

Weddings. Even at your age. You hide the

Jack Daniel’s till the cops come and then leave.

The Jack Daniel’s till Willie Neslon sings.

The smoking cloud of fiery exhaust fueled

By Jack Daniel’s. Till he won’t shut up. Till

He tells your wife how much he loves her breasts.


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