“Go slow,” my friend warned.
“You don’t want to get wasted too quickly.”
I beg to differ.
Getting wasted quickly is the reason I’m here.
It’s like my mission statement.
Getting Wasted Quickly Since 1978
Wanna get fucked up?
I can help with that.
We don’t need to play drinking games.
Getting drunk is the game and
Was that the first time you got pulled over?
That happens all the time.
Small town cops will drive you home.
Your parents’ wrath is nothing
compared to their disappointment.
You try to sleep it off,
but your dad comes in at 9 AM,
pulls the shade up violently.
“Get up,” he says. “Go cut the grass.”
You feel like shit.
The birds are singing.
The sun beats down.
You throw up on the lawn by the garage.
It kills the grass there.
You’ll go out tonight.
It doesn’t matter where.
Your friends will say, “Go slow.”
God likes you.
He looks out for you
as you weave down country roads
in someone else’s car,
as you jump into the river,
as you wobble down dark city streets.
God has plans for you.
He kept you alive for a reason:
to tell jokes,
to write music,
to fall in love,
to write this poem.
-Copyright Timothy Downs