I’ve spent so many nights awake
driven by illusive insomnia
speaking to the moon
about his drinking problem
he’s convinced there isn’t one
habitual enthusiast
he calls it
he can’t say it without smiling
he talks about the sun
the way children speak about summer
midwinter
with bloodshot eyes
and a crooked grin
he plays the oceans tides like a piano
another ballad
unheard
he continues playing
long after I’ve fallen asleep
drinking down his pride
he reminds himself
drinks are on me tomorrow night.