You will drink me, on rocks, one last time

friend. Enjoy it; the sad burn, the heat swell,

the numb threads of nothing. The biting chill of ice-

bergs hitting broken lips and like you, waiting

to change.

But, you don’t change.

Tonight, you will thirst my poison into your blood,

pray to liquid spirits behind a dirty windshield,

run into a small car containing: a wife, a son, a daughter.

Don’t worry, you    

            alone

                           will be safe.

- Christina McClure