Drunk and Far Away

I sit in this bus station
with your last sixty-eight dollars,
grocery money, I’m sure.

And wish I was sober
and safe at home with you,
three years drunk and counting.

My heart is faithful,
but the cells of my bones
are as thirsty as my mind.

And your hopes are like bandages
I fashion into whips
to reopen the wounds you would bind.

My heart is faithful
but it pumps blood that is 
almost equal parts love and alcohol.

The ticket man watches me
and maybe he understands,
there is a liquor store next door.


an old poem brought to mind by a recent conversation at Better than Starbucks on Shelfari.com


About anthonyuplandpoetwatkins

https://www.goodreads.com/AnthonyUplandpoetWatkins born in Jackson, The United States August 04, 1959 gender male website http://www.lulu.com/shop/search.ep?contributorI... genre Poetry, Historical Fiction influences James M. Lancaster, Brenda Black White, Gertrude Stein, William Carlos Williams, and Al Filreis member since March 2011 About this author edit data As one of the most public lives ever lived by a private citizen, there is little about me that isn't already available at Facebook or Shelfari and countless other places. Poet, writer, construction worker, salesman, truck driver, climber into the attics of total strangers, father and husband, and all around one of the luckiest men on the planet. My luck continued with a win in the June Goodreads Newsletter Contest! What an honor! http://anthonyuplandpoetwatkins.wordp... Additional Influences: Bob Dylan, William Faulkner, Barbara Kingsolver, Gloria Naylor, Eudora Welty
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3 Responses to Drunk and Far Away

  1. seingraham says:

    This is so poignant Anthony – and very real. I can imagine someone feeling like this, experiencing such thoughts and laying it down, pretty much just as you have. Congrats on the Good Reads win incidentally. I think I’ve mentioned this before, but it’s a market I try to crack pretty much every month so am mightily impressed that you have!

    • You are too kind. Goidreads is a great place, though I am a bigger shelfari fan (better than Starbucks) but I was surprised the first time I won and pretty much gob smacked the second time… Between that and Al inviting me to join y’all as CTAs, I have begin to take myself slightly more seriously as a poet. Not much, but at least I am trying to grapple with the idea people other than my wife and my mother might actually appreciate poetry. Have you struggled to accept that you might be a decent poet?

      When I was 14-16 I was pretty sure I was the worlds greatest poet…. By my 21st birthday I was pretty sure I was any good. Over the last 30 years it’s been an open question:)

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