I get drunk. I tear down <br />Mountains, <br />Grab my father’s gun <br />And shoot up and down <br />The night until the <br />Coyote howls. I kill <br />10 Indians. <br />I forget to say my <br />Prayers. I kneel down <br />At the foot of the <br />Bed and vomit. <br />Then I passed out on <br />Her birthday last year <br />And wrote her love <br />Letters while I slept <br />I can’t remember.<br /><br />Robert Rorabeck<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/whiskey-2/
