Hemingway Would Probably Hate Me
You know you’ve made it
when you can measure your success
by the bottles in the trash.
Cambria Chardonnay, Border Bourbon,
Spotted Cow, Breckenridge,
and a couple Miller Lite’s.
A couple words on a page
aren’t worth their weight these days
like they used to be.
No one seems to care
what a drunk has to say
quite like they used to.
Catch a buzz and write it down
doesn’t seem to do the trick anymore.
It’s hard to compete
with all these fedoras and mustaches,
as they fill the page with nothing
and empty out their glasses.
Light a cigarette.
put it out.
say you’ll quit.
Light another.