by James Babbs
full moon bright
in the early morning sky
and I’m out in the driveway
pissing into the wind
when I’m finished
I zip up and
stagger back inside
nine empty bottles
on the kitchen table
all in a row
like tired soldiers
standing at attention
waiting to be dismissed
I walk over to the fridge
and pull out number ten
bouncing the cap
neatly into the garbage can
I lean back
take a long slow drink
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