Poetry

That Whiskey In A Coffee Can’t Cure

there is nothing wrong with four a.m. that whiskey in a coffee can’t cure…you demure? Not your kind of thirsty…?…and  too old fashioned blue in that shopworn hue, through the non-filtered Lucky Strikes and a raked back and black Fedora…but it may be best to read the early wires a bit buzzed… as those busy bees who now run the bureaucracies ain’t about honey drippin,’

…Darlin’

as the power intoxicates, and you’d best believe their going to belt it. And then- when?
that bottom of the barrel hangover begins… to spank us… all, y’all…I hope to be somehow inoculated, having articulated… some needed elbow bending room early… as there is nothing wrong with four a.m. that whiskey in (a) coffee can’t cure

——————

(a little doggerel for democracy, folks)

cropped-odwtophat

Published by r.Douglas

I’m spry yet retired. I reside in the inner city of a major metropolitan area of the United States. I read politics. I watch baseball. I hum along with the tune. I June swoon, and moon the bad poem. Post here, are old and new. Opinions are my very own, except when wrong.

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