The lights are bright enough,
sticking to your eyes as the
tall glasses of j&b cling
to the walls of our guts.
"We need more. One more."
says our friend
slurring impossible words.
"It isn't two yet."
1:48 is all the same,
but the drunk is always
the more adept of the bunch.
He forgot we drove
and demands his keys.
i grab a hold of you. Watch
you smile your precious smile
since I'm not nearly as drunk
as him.
"I need my keys" again.
"You didn't drive" you tell him,
soft voice sending shivers
towards anybody willing.
Give me my keys sounds
more like blah, and he
forgets his car all over
the front of his pants,
and on the sidewalk.
"Get him one more"
I tell them.
"It isn't even two yet."
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