It seems I’ve developed a new
over the past few months.
In the spring, it was gin and tonic
and the occasional shot of whiskey.
Over the summer, however, I found
myself drinking IPA.
Gin led to some loose-tongued moments
I didn’t want to repeat.
And whiskey– well.
Let’s just not talk about that.
So I started drinking IPA.
Beer is so much safer than whiskey or gin.
I figure as far as coping mechanisms go
There are worse things I could do.
I could start scratching away at my
flesh with razors.
Or just take a knife and open my veins.
So I figure IPA is a better way to go.
And then, I added poetry into the mix.
Now that’s an addictive coping mechanism.
Standing in front of a crowd of varying sizes and reading my words
baring soul for people who come
There’s one more coping mechanism in my title.
It seems that combining poetry and IPA can lead to sex.
Or maybe it just unleashed something in me I’d been holding back.
Maybe poetry and IPA warmed my closed off heart
relaxed my clenched muscles and nerves
and let me open myself up and take someone else in.
Poetry, sex, and IPA.
What a winning combination.