near the crosswalk
the bearded man
with a brown bag

a half-empty pint
of Guinness:
foam mustache

drunken confessions
he can't erase
my apprehension

the lowest E
growls
within my chest

top quarter champion =

top half champion =

bottom quarter champion =

bubbly, sweet
and a little tart
I am a mimosa

sweet sunset
sweet champagne
sweet kisses

the honor student,
unrecognizable,
at the Ozzfest

passed out on the floor—
dropping Shakespeare's Collected Works
can't even wake him

top half champion =

grand champion =

bottom half champion =

avoiding Mom's glare
as Dad pours us
our first glass of wine

inside the bus
another woman waits
to claim her piece of fame

"Iron Man" rages
as we drive
toward the symphony

Cadillac rocks
to the beat:
Paradise by the Dashboard Light

top quarter champion =

bottom half champion =

bottom quarter champion =

sunlit window sill
light spreading
through the bottles

comedic timing—
just as I drop
the high-hat

blue ties and blazers
working, longing, yearning
alocohol and rock 'n roll

lemonade on Easter Sunday
celebrating
with friends and vodka