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Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #1937630
A real drink
A two-bit writer walked into the bar and sat next to me,
He cried about a lot of things but namely someone named Sunny.
I turned away from him and drank my twisted drink, trying to ignore his sobs and moans.
He claimed he had some advice and since it was the afternoon, 3PM
I was the only one to listen;

He said, girl I've known the blues and the blues is a hurricane
It comes from offshore and blows everything to smithereens.

I said, yeah well that's the deal with most things.

Well, with the blues, he said, there is only one cure
It comes in the form of a drink and it'll turn you sideways
But damn, it'll leave your heart warmed.

Shit, really mister, I said sipping my vodka whatever, it's caffiene mixer in my veins
What's this drink you're spewing after?

It's whiskey and milk my dear, a drink sublime
It is the border between the child and his adulthood
Between innocence and the responsibility that comes after.
Any blues you feel, it'll take them away,
You'll walk on sunshine, feeling fresh, right into tomorrow.

Please, I said, only time takes the child into its future;
Booze ain't going to change the course of disaster.

I tell you, woman its true, this drink is the answer
Whiskey and milk will turn the overcast into sun.
Once you cross the threshold of child to adult,
maybe then you'll understand what I am talking about.

I thought then said, spare me your rhymes old man
I've got enough to worry about.
I'm not concerned with growing up.
Let's drink, you know as I do, its the best means to forget.
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