Tonight's Poet Corner: Night At A Friend's House

Night At A Friend's House
by Belinda Roddie

Our cellphones are in a sad, silicon
heap on the kitchen counter. We're choking on
jug lips and taking big sips of something
stronger than our souls. The blood of Christ

ain't got nothing on this shit: Lemon squeezed,
blended, ice cold honey bourbon ale breeze
sending sparks soaring from our nostrils. We
inhale fumes toxic enough to topple a horse,
but medicinal enough to cure our common colds

and cut the tumors right out of our egos
with a hot butter knife. Outside, the basses
pound. The drums are distant, but they make
the walls throb out a Hallelujah! Praise be to
the man who swirled bathtub gin and saved our

respective asses from the real life swill in
our highball glasses. Nearby, someone gets
a text. The words mix together in their own
original cocktail. I bite into a lime, and the room
spins like a poorly furnished merry-go-round. Carnival's

over - now it's up to us to burn away our demons
with coffee and dry toast in the morning.