by Jack Sullivan
After Sam Sax
[my first drink:][corona]
[my first fear:][myself]
Hiding in Kevin’s bushes,
I begin to deny
What I already know.
*
[every time I drink:][fantasy] but
[whose fantasy?:][which?]
*
The origins of alcohol do not concern me. By which I mean
I could really care less. Grain fermented somewhere
Long before I was born.
Sold in bottles, drank at weddings
Sometimes the color
Of poisoned blood.
*
Or the sky, I realize sitting outside
My parent’s house. MC’s just asked
Whether I’m happy, and I can’t respond,
The future stretching out Before me —
Endless days, Fruitless grain
*
[when should I drink?] [birthdays]
[weddings]
[funerals]
[happy hour]
[with friends]
[without]
[when should I not drink?] [N/A]
*
The few times
I’ve woke in a stranger’s bed,
I was apologetic.
For what I did,
But for what I didn’t. For who I was,
Because…?
Because.
*
No one in my family has died from it. But I can admit
None have really lived either.
*
[my last drink:][bloody mary]
[my last headache:][yesterday afternoon]
[my next panic attack:][TBD]
I can’t tell
Where my wonder begins
And anxiety ends
*
I’m trying to understand
Whether I understand pleasure
As pleasure itself.
Just the other day
You overwhelmed me
And the buzz I felt
Was a feature // not a bug.
*
Sometimes I dream of getting sober.
*
And then I think: naaaaaaaah
*
How many great conversations
Screamed at each other
Over the brim of a negroni?
*
Fermentation, noun:
the chemical breakdown of a substance by bacteria, yeasts, or other microorganisms, typically involving effervescence and the giving off of heat.
So
Is that all
Getting drunk is?
Flying too close
To the sun?
*
The liquor man laughs
As I put my purchase on the table.
Rough day?, he asks.
And I answer
What day isn’t?
Jack Sullivan is a writer and visual artist living in Brooklyn, NY. Some of his work can be found in Yes, Poetry, Ghost City Review, and Thimble Lit.
scissors & spackle 