A tipsy poem

Pour me a glass

pour yourself a whisky

now sit beside me

tell me what you fear

what haunts your whisky sours

what rebels in your humdrum heart

is it okay if I let go

of your hand for a moment?

we don’t have enough ice

for your troubles

but this night

is the night of sorrows

and two drunks

who dip their pens

in alcohol, and write

a tipsy poem.

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