a couple times i've been too drunk
to appreciate anything
more than hugging a toilet bowl
and let me say the whisky no
matter how it's been aged tastes bad
in the wrong direction woman
and a love gone backwards cuts worse
than cheap scotch coming up again
yet i love those wasted evenings
even screaming stupid curses
and the sail boat runs and hot tubs
in the snow when no one knew the
future any more than we could
step up ladders to a distant star