By Kris Khatchikian
One last sip, as i finish my favorite whiskey.
Have you tried it?
Fireball we call it. I’m sure you’ve heard,
It’s possibly caused your stomach to curdle;
Good ole fireball.
I asked my pops, “What’s with people drinking drops, taking a hit of wild turkey to calm the nerves, was their magic in this alcohol that makes its victims curve?”
“Advertisement” he said,
Yet all my heroes drank it in bed, or before the big show,
no one really cared and I wasn’t obligated to know.
I drink alone at 22,
a product of failed doctors and medicines that shouldn’t be in lockers-
but fires.
A product of failed medicine at 22,
what is a guy like me to do?
Empty the bottle!
Oh new drug take me on a rocket ship shuttle.
Take me away from this mess;
to a place i feel blessed.
One last sip.
That’s all i need.