I didn't make plans to stomp
twenty four more cans on Tuesdays.
Sunday dad swore I "won't see a case of beer"
Monday evening when he slams the truck door.

A tape recorded memo might've saved his larynx.

If waiting on molasses to pour is a virtue
then the brown syrup and broken jars
heaped in the church dumpster
across the alley from the bar
leave me scratching my scalp.

My bull headed sobriety does not fall
neither does the celibacy that follows
the flowering of walls.

Thirty layers of dust coat a bottle of sparkling cider
saved for my cherry popping party or funeral
whichever arrives first.

Nice poem .

Thanks, Julie.

I have no words, Technovative.

Are you published? Have you considered getting published?

I appreciate the encouragement, Storm. I've shared my writing here and on some poetry specific sites for several years.

The things that I write about, and the way I express myself, don't seem to connect with enough readers for me to feel my writing is publishing worthy.

No, I haven't been published. It would be gratifying to be though.

I agree with Stormy... Definitely publish worthy, even though you don't feel that way.

Very nice, as usual, techno

Thanks, River. I appreciate your kindness.

Nice! Very creative!

Thank you.

EXCELLENT

Kind of you, Robin.