some tube the Chattooga
with a six
pack trailing
in the numbing water
intending to consume
all of their
beer before
the end of Section II
but I have an icebox
to keep my
sorrows fresh
guard them from perishing
where time has stopped and where
I can reach
to sip once
more while checking of course
the DON’T USE AFTER dates
since the very best
bitters are
sometimes from
the deep dark distant past
1:07 a.m. next day
"an icebox to keep my sorrows fresh" "very best bitters" - LOVE THESE LINES
ReplyDeleteHey Amber,
DeleteThanks for your kind comment. And the first line is quite a potential tongue-twister, read aloud! Which is fitting, I think, with the underlying current of intoxication.
Cheers!
B.R.
oh, and the TITLE!
ReplyDeleteHey Amber,
DeleteYes, the title (and the sparking seed of the entire poem) came about by just some wordplay in my head making an anagram out of "grief" - just had to go borrow a "d" from the rest of the alphabet!
Peace,
B.R.