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