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Ode to Not Being an Alcoholic
by Chuck Baudelaire
Some would say that I’m a drunkard,
Every night alone and hunkered
Down with glass in hand and bottle.
But to them I would say, twaddle.
While it’s true I have been known
To drink profusely and alone,
I must protest attempts to say my
Habit’s harmful, or portray my
Lovely booze as an addiction,
Crutch, dependency, or affliction.
If you could stagger in my shoes
A mile or two, you’d know I choose
To go without a drink sometimes
For days or weeks - whenever I’m
Quite saturated with the stuff,
I put it down and say, enough.
I’m telling you without false piety
That I in fact enjoy sobriety,
At least the parts that I recall
When I’m not drinking alcohol.
I like to say, “It’s time for bed,”
And not simply pass out instead.
And wake without the need to pray that,
Oh Lord, did I really say that?
Then drive to work and know that I
Am not committing DUI
Because the booze my blood has in it
Still exceeds the legal limit.
I find it somewhat contradictory,
That, although vodka tastes like victory,
Still I feel that I’m a winner
When I don’t get drunk after dinner.
As much as I may love the bliss
Of drink, it’s something I don’t miss.
Each time I’ve quit, as I have learned,
It’s waited until I returned.
If you find my verse distasteful,
Of the time to read it, wasteful,
It should be well and duly noted,
I was sober when I wrote it.
(c) 2013.
You truly have a gift for poetry. You should publish a book of your poetic awesomeness.
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