Angered at a fellow worker <br />He leaves work early. At the bar, he <br />has a pitcher of beer. You done me wrong music. <br />Cigarettes. Carpets of stale beer <br /> <br />Arriving home at dusk, he has five <br />Beers. His wife looks tense. House filthy. <br />He's angry, vomits in the bathroom <br />During dinner. Angrily, everyone hears. <br /> <br />That bitch- a shouting match; he leaves <br />Later wakes up in his car, hearing country <br />music from the bar's jukebox <br /> <br />What happened? The car smells of stale <br />beer-and damn! -he's wet himself <br />He goes home and passes out <br /> <br />In the early hours trembling. <br />He needs a drink <br />Screwdrivers, three, quickly. <br /> <br />In the morning, blood in his urine. <br />Three screwdrivers-not too easy to smell <br />They quell the fear, steady <br />The shaking. A shower, off to work <br /> <br />At work, quietly hating an ememy <br />And his unreasonable workload. <br />At noon a different liquor store-new clerks. <br />He buys plenty-not remembering what's in <br />Secret places at home <br /> <br />He goes straight home after work. They <br />Make up, clean up. Company. Drinkers, Friends. Friday. <br />Clean glasses, ice, ash trays. Stereo playing. <br />Maybe some dancing tonight <br /> <br />Perhaps he'll get his neighbor Shirley in bed. <br />Drinking soon after dinner. <br />Thereafter it's Monday morning. No memory <br />of the weekend. Blank. Sick. <br /> <br />He wonders whether the weekend was fun.<br /><br />Ray Andrews<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/drunks/
