BEATNIK: A Poetry Collection

riding the edge

it's been three

weeks for me

without a drink

and I'm beginning

to feel my patience

whither.

I was offered some

ginger ale the other

night that dared to

call itself champagne,

but it wasn't enough.

last night I squeezed

every last drop out of

my boxed wine that

had been sitting out

for over a month.

even my brandy

is gone, swiped

away from its

nifty spot next

to the kitchen sink.

there's nothing

to do now but

await payday

and hope the

liquor stores

don't run dry.

till then I'll

just sleep

and dream

about oceans

of beer.