Alcohol Helps

Like an apple drop, the third of myself

facing the autumn sun is turning soft

brown amid the dried up leaves. 

Hard cider is my next reincarnation

and soon  I think before the snow flies. 

Ah, the smack of Vodka against the back

of the throat at four in the afternoon is

like Edmund O’Brien giving Jimmy Cagney

absolution before the warden pulls the switch.

Of course the alcoholic in me would tell you

neither was a priest nor on death row,

but we all know that and it makes no difference. 

So I say swallow me Lord as I swallow thee.

Go ahead cast the first stone, duck and cover,

drop and grovel to put out the fire - it will do

you no good which is ironic because

nothing in this world helps, but alcohol does.

FG  8/28/2015