On the Wagon

he asked me to stop for seven
days
straight.
i was on the wagon now
being a responsible adult and friendly smile
waving elbow deep in dextrose.
the second day was the hardest to cope with
stomach burning and cravings
awful cravings
for a pint
i smoked ten cigarettes that day
which doesn't help the cause of being on the wagon
replacing one drug with another.
redundant
and
stupid.
to bury this baby
i drove to the market at 1:30am
to think about buying some non alcoholic beer
i needs suds in me
some goddamn carbonation.
car came to a halt and i sat
there
as
Tom Gabel
sang to me
and said
"you look like i need a drink."
i agreed
relentlessly..
i devised a plan
and drove home.
i set a beer bottle down on the coffee table
and laid there watching mindless television
lights flickering off ceiling and against
blind shuttered windows
i wrote her name
on a post it
and placed it over the bottle
and said to myself
that if i could stay away from her
that damn woman
if i could keep my damn brain straight
and keep moving forward
away from  her general direction
than i could stay away from this bottle
for as long as i want
the craving went away then
because i thought of all the
bad women
drunk driving
car accidents
being broke
father beating his children
mother manipulating her sons
90 hour work weeks
falling asleep at the wheel
exhaustion
insomnia
and all of the pathetic people
who inhabit this planet
put the itching into scratching
and i felt relief
i stood up and stretched
wiped the drool from my mouth
with a pass of my hand
said,
"i'm too fucking smart for this"
and put the bottle back in it's bed
and i put myself
back
in
my bed
to do it all over again
tomorrow.