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Some of these poems first appeared inAnother Fucken Review,Dog Review Review,Elimae, Occasional Review, Taurus, Thunder Sandwichand on Facebook.com
That's as well said, as if I had said it myself.
When the teachers
what I wanted to be
I've become a fatalist.
Well, shit, it was inevitable.
She said, “I'm going to A.A. now.”
I know better, I know her,
she went to A.A. before and didn't like it,
no friend of Bill's, the 12 steps.
She says she's going to Alanon just to keep
family off her ass,
to make her employer think she's getting help,
to silence those who say,
“You need to go into rehab, lass.”
I know that after whatever meeting she attends,
she opens a bottle of cheap wine,
justifying: “I'll only have two glasses
instead of two bottles.”
Keep the D.T.s away,
tomorrow is another day
to either get it right
or crawl into a vat, cat,
get arrested for a DUI, Sly,
go to jail, do not pass go, yo,
do not collect $200 but pay
$2,000 in fines and fees, please.
It's too much like a Raymond Carver story
and in another context it would be amusing.
In this tale, like a glass of flat Pale Ale,
it's only sad, much like watching a hamster
on a tread wheel, trying so hard
to get somewhere
but not moving a millimeter.
You are like British Petroleum — causing a lot of damage & pain then pointing fingers everywhere & at everyone
but you yourself,
never taking social responsibility for your destruction & (in)action.
You are like the BP CEO... lying before Congress, oh!
—never assuming the blame for all the things you spilled & broke.
You are like BP's oil: ruining nature & beauty w/a choke, w/out a blink or a sigh a look in the eye;
& the way you lie