It is Better to Be Drunk Than Wasted

and spilled out over the Chattahoochee,

past the drowned caves.

We turned left at the border

lest we inadvertently enter Georgia.

We snuck through Mobile before they could catch us,

giving the finger the finger -

panhandles every where you look.

We pulled a string and unraveled the miles that made up the heart of Mississippi,

loosing ourselves in the swamps of Louisiana before poor ole Miss caught on.

I am almost certain we passed up the soggy bottom boys

before they could get a lick in

like a sirens song

which makes you stop immediately and start sucking the brains out of mud bugs and sinking into the mire.

We were thunderstruck in Shreveport but yet and still managed

to limp into Texas

rode hard and put up wet

a little worse for wear

eyes stinging from the smoke of prairie fires

but hey at least my sinuses cleared up.

And I walked through the dust choked air to the liquor store which was closing due to some thing that bank was doing.

I rescued the beer from foreclosure oblivion and counted myself lucky and it was good fortune for the beer as well.

It is after all, better to be drunk thank wasted.

Short Poems