Moonshine

I am cooking moonshine

but I don't drink now.

The smell of ethanol,

you know how damnably weird it

is when you don't do something

everyone else does?

That's how this feels,

like they have never thought about it.

Smug, but left out.

Like only you have been told a nickle is now worth more than a dime,

but wait everyone else keeps spending them up the same way.

Copper pipe stainless keg drip squeal of the wine running through the morning

then it is the evening when you wish something would flow through you.

I have always felt like the day has a fence to it and to jump the fence takes a drink. Otherwise there you are standing on the fence between morning and night. Like a rusted bolt needing a loosening or whatever.

Like the rest of the world does not see the turnstile and only you have the coins.

Like the rest of the universe has more blood than you do.

Like the entire whole big enormous viny branchy forest of it all can be cleared out.

When I started this, I did not think I was an alcoholic. But I did not think much about it or whether it mattered to me. Now it kind of does.

I feel dry and sandy covered, buried half in the rubble nothing to offer nothing to loosen the tongue.

Loosen

loosen

loosen

turn

I grew up with talking about drunk

more than watching drunk

living with having been drunk.

Maybe I have been drunk a lot.

My girlfriend comes home, opens a glass of wine.

She has a good reason, like I never do.