Old Habits
I was blackout drunk,
and I surely stunk
of sweat and dirt and vomit
when I went to that joint
up at Downer’s Point,
hadn’t been there since Halley’s Comet.
But they knew me there
and they poured my share,
made it stiff as rigor mortis,
kept filling my cup
’til the sun came up,
and I rolled out like a tortoise.
Next thing I knew
I was coming to
in my ex- ex- ex-girlfriend’s apartment,
the sun shone unbearable
my head pounded terrible
like a fire at the fire department.
Still I gasped out her name
when I witnessed her frame,
stale and lifeless on the floor by the sink,
my onions were mussed
with fresh blood on my crust
and I thought What’s my AA group gonna’ think?
