Tonight's Poet's Corner: Beer Run

Beer Run
by Belinda Roddie

Four of us pile into Johnny's
buck-toothed truck, heading to
the liquor store to buy a six-pack
each. Chelsea smashes the aluminum
against her teeth, and we just laugh
and laugh. We're all too hammered

to drive now, so Johnny tucks away
his car keys, and we stagger to the beach
just down the street. The sand bristles
between our toes like gold curling
in shiny tendrils around all the divots and
curves in our feet. Everything smells
like last Saturday, when I took Lorraine
to the cliffs, where she stripped me

of all reason and rhyme. We all swap
cans, take sips of each other's sins,
pine for newfound sanity. We're not
idealistic clichés of lost souls. We're
just here, getting drunker by the minute,
letting our brains slosh around like
the waves in front of us, trying to sync
with the drumbeat of the moon.