an ode to the forgotten drunk

an ode to the forgotten drunk


you sit upon your barstool
in a haze of shattered dreams
with the crust of nightmares old and new
encaked upon your jeans
with one hand on your whisky glass
and one on your cigar
you vaguely muse on where you've been
and also where you are
the jukebox plays a happy song
picked out by someone else
a fool to you perhaps, but cool, to himself
so who's the winner in this tale
of battles to the death?
a drunk with whisky on his mind,
or whisky on his breath?