Page 12 - Contrast2012

shaped cereal
breaking between bicuspids.
I'm only starting to feel it,
the stuffing.
I'm the turkey
(oh God, turkeyl)
for the Thanksgiving feast.
Prepare me before you rip me apart.

II

There's a hole
punctured
in me.
Waves of wine
slap
against my
starboard side,
skipping over and
filtering back through
my floor.
Goldschlager glugs,
gurgling in gallons
(Aren't those
great sounds? Everything
sounds so
fucking poetic
through a gin fizz).
The gunwale's taking shots,
as well as the helm- Hell!
The shots are everywhere, leaving
a Swiss cheese, Heidi-Ann-Lace pattern
Down, down, down
I'll sink
but I'm
merrily, merrily laughing
as Igo,
dizzy,
drunk,

10 I contrast