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
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