Bottle of El Aguila Reserva Tequila Añejo aged 18 months with lime wedge

The following poem was originally written in 1994, when Tequila was my poison of choice. I have been sober for fifteen years this coming September 11.

wake up/if you can

rolling over/from one dead
day/into the next

your mouth
a dirt filled trench/
shoveled with/bad vices

an empty fifth/evidence
the gold bottle cap/spilled
across the room/

the stained paper bag/
at the edge/of the bed

your aching body/aching
screaming/

Stop it/You're killing me.

tequila gold/
burning fire/
drunk maker/
liver sodomizer/

what a head/ache
you’ll wake up/

if you can.

9/24/1994
Tequila
Image by Michal Jarmoluk from Pixabay
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