Poetry Day!

Bourbon Snitches

Last night
the booze monkeys
crept into my room
reaching for my bottle
I spilt the last swallow
right on my pillow
damn those monkeys
now I have to leave the house

weeping in my socks and shoes
I dressed and headed for the store
grabbed a pint and forty
walking home the booze monkeys called
“What now?”
“Did you get it?”
“Yes”
“Okay, better see who’s at the bar.”
“You’re right.”

Scotty and Joe were there
and the barkeep
I affectionately call “Double Pour”
I knew I was in trouble
or heaven

six friends and eight shots later
I mumbled “Thanks.”
then stumbled home
the booze monkeys
were still up waiting

I cracked the bottle
and opened the beer
as we began our primal ritual
soon the beer was gone
and the bottle was empty

the monkeys had passed out
I set my alarm and scribbled a note
“Dear Booze Monkeys,
thanks for a wonderful time.
Please don’t forget
to call in sick.”

as I laid my head
on my gin soaked pillow
I felt something underneath
the pillow hid a small bottle
of bourbon
“God bless you monkeys”
I thought to myself
as I cracked the bottle
I sure am glad
those monkeys
know how to use the phone

—Peter Flye