The Occasional Blackout Feb 8th 2011 Poem by James Bredin

I PASSED SOME HARD WORKING ALCOHOLICS ALONG THE WAY,
EVEN SOME WHO COMMITTED SUICIDE BUT BE THAT AS IT MAY,
THOSE POOR PEOPLE SO INCLINED SHOULD BE HELPED OUT OF THEIR DISTRESS,
BUT IT DOESN’T WORK TOO GOOD WITH ALCOHOLICS, I GUESS.

I WAS ONCE AN ALCOHOLIC MYSELF SO I KNOW THEIR WAYS,
TRY TO ACT AND TALK SOBER IN THE MIDST OF CONSTANT MALAISE,
AND HIDE THE SECRET SICKNESS THAT SO FEW KNOW ABOUT,
PRETENDING WE WERE AS SOBER AS A UNIFORMED BOY SCOUT.

LIVING IN THE OCCASIONAL BLACKOUT VERY CLOSE TO THE BRINK,
WHAT DID I DO FOR THOSE FOUR HOURS AND HOW MUCH DID I DRINK?
HOW DID I GET FROM THE OTHER SIDE OF THE CITY TO HERE?
DID MY CAR KNOW THE WAY AND SHOULD I LOOK AROUND IN FEAR?

IT WAS FEAR OF SCARY BLACKOUTS THAT CAUSED ME TO GO DRY,
I COULDN'T REMEMBER THOSE MANY HOURS, THE WHEN, THE WHERE OR WHY,
I LEFT MY MANY FRIENDS IN THE TAVERNS AND THOSE CLOSE KNIT BARS,
OTHERS, AMONG MY FRIENDS HAD TO GO BACK FOR SOME … CIGARS.

FEB 8TH,2011