Tis the season they say, but wait, I don’t feel it.
I feel the high and the heat and the woozy of the
liquid silver running down esophagus neat.
Mix it – don’t care if shaken or stirred,
just pour me another one and shots of a couple more.
Cold and harsh, sound of ice clinking, gulps and
slams and shouts of “seasons greetings” echo.
Be Kind and Share…