This appears in a pre-2010 issue
of cc&d magazine.
Saddle-stitched issues are no longer
printed, but you can requesting it
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as a 6" x 9" ISBN# book! Email us for re-release to order.
I drank before coming here,
You were going to ask me to speak,
And I didn’t want to disappoint you,
I have in the past, so,
I had a drink or two at home,
My hands were nervous too,
Almost as bad as my lips
And I didn’t get to measure what I poured,
Even though I mixed it up
With a ruler, giving everything
A nice turpentine taste and texture.
I drank at a friend’s house too,
He told me that he had to get rid
Of a beer in his fridge, it was old,
And I was desperate, I could use it.
I cut my hand opening the damn thing,
The cap would not give,
Instead I broke the top off,
And was careful not to cut my gums,
Because poets can’t be taken seriously
If they bleed up and down the stage,
Plus other people have to use the mike.
I was only trying to be considerate,
To the other poets, and my friend,
Even when I was drinking, I thought
About all of you and how drunk you would be
By the time I got up here.
I only wanted to be one of you,
Nobody wants to be the only sober person in a room,
Especially if you don’t have a corner to rule,
Nobody listens to a sober fool,
They pay only for the drunks
Who can keep their words together,
Their voices leaning on a piano
Or a page of paper for support.
