The Dangers of Drink

‘Would you like a bourbon ?’
I thought she meant biscuits,
much disliked as a child

she returned with whiskey
so good for sippin’
strong stuff, yet so mild

I couldn’t help seeing
she was prettier
with each glass

her eyes had been glazed
by a goddess
at white mass

enticing breasts
ripened by rays
of simmering summer

wise words failed
to form in a brain
rendered dumber

the length of that skirt
was a crime,
of passion

glimpses of bare thigh,
and much
sweeter ration

the bottle was empty,
and I looked
at the open door

and knew we'd
come together
on the sour-mashed shore