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Wednesday Headclear

Four in the bloody morning.

Sitting here at the laptop,

sipping the "good" coffee,

I can't help but feel

that old Ray Carver's ghost

is at my elbow.

There was a time in my mercurial youth

when I thought Dylan's thirty-nine was a good run.

I couldn't imagine living another sixteen years,

and then seven more on top of that!

It was four years ago, the 26th.

I walked around the Red Hat

in chilly drizzle for an hour or more,

debating with myself if I should spend

my last twenty on cheap beer.

I had done the math, the alcocalculation:

four Narragansetts plus a tip for Acadia.

Somehow I talked myself out of it,

but that was the day I started to suspect

that I had a problem.

Poetry by Uncle Meridian

Read 331 times
Written on 2022-03-23 at 09:27

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Alan J Ripley
I joined the Alcoholics Anonymous.
Tom I still drink, I just don't tell anybody.
Sorry that was the other A A.
Anonymous Alcoholics.
Carry on writing, Good poetry, I'll carry on reading.
2022-03-23

D G Moody
Evoking the shade of Ray Carver - what could be more apt; and I liked the way you always put the reader into the poem. Another gem Tom!
Dougie
2022-03-23

MetaPoetics
Beautiful snippets of life (with musings of the ultimate end in between) peppered with heady romanticism, methinks! I especially like the routine of writing at four in the morning with a good cuppa joe. And spending the last twenty years on cheap beers sounds so Bukowski-esque! Nicely done, overall. :)
2022-03-23

Griffonner
Love it! Not more I can say really, it is that good. :)
2022-03-23

Lawrence Beck
"I've become one of Raymond Carver's characters." Well done.
2022-03-23

Texts

Spy Pond Songs
by Uncle Meridian