I get drunk. I tear down
Mountains,
Grab my father’s gun
And shoot up and down
The night until the
Coyote howls. I kill
10 Indians.
I forget to say my
Prayers. I kneel down
At the foot of the
Bed and vomit.
Then I passed out on
Her birthday last year
And wrote her love
Letters while I slept
I can’t remember.
Robert Rorabeck
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/whiskey-2/
