the Drinks

Some days I crave the burn
of alcohol- yes, straight rum
vodka or gin- pulls from a bottle tucked in
beside my dresser, the one my mother
my roommates don’t know is there —
my mother is not an alcoholic
just like my grandmother was not
just like I am not.

We’re all only humans who face
the death of our parents
and the destruction of all species
who walked the earth before us
and betrayal at the hands of those
who told us they loved us.

I’ll drink to that
and drink to pretending
I don’t wake up with this on my mind.

2 thoughts on “the Drinks

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