Laughter lags us like liquor,
I’m finding less to say.
Money mumbles garnish
the conversation like lime.
I wonder if I knew more
I’d feel strong enough to speak.
“You’re strong enough to leave me,”
you say and teeter your glass left to right,
till ice cubes reach the rim.
Liquor lags me like laughter.
My finger touches my glass rim like it’s lips.
“You’re selfish enough to leave me,” I say and take another sip.
I’m too tipsy to drive home – tongue is lime and gin.
I’m too sick to speak;
you’re too stupid to listen.