There was a time when it ended
that I drank all the time.
I would drink with Jim, the policeman
until one in the morning.

He would tell me how most women
did not understand him.
And how his latest girlfriend
satisfied him, most of the time.

He felt sure this was the right one.
But he had said this before.

I would drink with my neighbour,
she was older than me and always
answered in the negative.

Listening to her was painful, the more
she talked, the more I needed a drink.

As each evening tailed off into the night,
I would see the embittered face of my father.

And an early morning smile from you.
That told me I was waking up and no
harm would come to me.

I’ll never forget the smile as long as I live.

So I made up my mind to quit my drinking,
and write about unsavory details and delighted
moments, in all its forms of existence.