By Benjamin Shapiro
I sat there, elbows resting,

On cold veneered bar,

Liver needs testing,

I’ll take it too far. 

Cold mug chills 

Calloused hands,

Alcohol fueled thrills,

Crap house bands. 

And my tired brain

Repeats chanted refrain:

“Hey there, brother, 

Pour me another? ”
Barkeep winks,

Whiskey fills glass,

I know he thinks

I’m a drunken ass. 

He’s not wrong,

But my money’s good,

Been at this so long,

Much longer than I should. 

And my tired brain,

Repeats slurred refrain:

“Hey there, brother,

Pour me another?”
One shot, two shots,

Then four more,

Something inside rots, 

As I slide toward the floor. 

No friends to pick me up,

So I grab my stool,

Reaching for my cup,

Playing the court fool. 

And tired brain

Repeats screamed refrain:

“Hey there brother,

Pour me another?”
Darkness closes in,

Edges going black, 

Answer for my sins, 

Won’t send this drink back. 

Memory falls off

Motor functions follow,

Whiskey makes me cough

As I try last swallow. 

And my tired brain

Has mixed up the refrain:

“Hey poor brother,

Why am I other.”

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