A COMMUNAL EXPERIMENT IN SELF CURATION

a Soul Project

archival : first and second drink :

I'd already decided,
before we left for Eugene
that Friday night,
I was going to get wasted.
We got there and instantly
those lovely, lovely boys
broke out the whiskey.
I took the first shot,
naturally.
I learned that
the word "faded" applied
to me.
Even with all the
college boys hanging on me,
picking me up,
grabbing my backside,
carrying me around,
picking me up,
playing games with me,
laughing with me;
I still drank
to forget Him.
The second day,
Saturday, I did it again.
Worse.
Don't ask me why.
It felt good the night before,
to be silly with an excuse,
to be free-spirited.
It felt good to forget.
So by noon Saturday morning
I'd already taken
seven shots, three more than
the night before.
I arrived home wasted.
Mission accomplished.
I still haven't decided
whether or not
it was all worth it.
But I hate to admit,
the first time was better.