A minor update of something I previously wrote:
If I were a better man, I would not taste it in the back of my throat, pain for its familiarity, or burn for its soothing properties. I would be happy with my situation, health, wife, employment, apartment, etc., but at this moment, I am not. For now, I am longing for something I simply cannot justify, nor attain, on a busy Tuesday afternoon—for that I hate her, here, this job, and of course, myself for giving in, as this is St. Patrick's day, and being Irish, this is my day to shine on this island—so please lord, quench my desire, my thirst, and if you could make it a chilled Guinness, I would be forever grateful. . . .
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
i couldn't even find corned beef and cabbage on st paddy's! and i was across the pond!
Post a Comment