Tuesday, April 28, 2015

Day 28 National Poetry Month 2015

Camper, storm, and tequila from Donna

I've been sitting here for almost a half hour
trying to absorb today's words and turn

them into a tasty drink but they're stubborn
things today.  And then I realize what's wrong;

I haven't gotten the ingredients out.  So I just
start typing.  That's the secret, you know: starting.

I get the tequila out of the cupboard, the Limeaid
out of the freezer, the 7-Up and Corona from

the fridge.  I mix twelve ounces of each together
in a big pitcher.  I don't use a blender because I'd

end up with a storm in my kitchen and cleaning
up messes is no fun.  I get a couple of Margarita

glasses out, dip the rims in the drink, then into
coarse salt, add ice and the concoction. I hand

one to Donna, who knows a great deal about
cleaning up messes as her camper got badly

damaged in a huge explosion and fire last spring,
take the other one for myself, then we sit and talk.

And, that's how life turns into a poem: booze,
tears, laughter, and two friends sipping their drinks.

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