Poetry, Sex, and IPA

It seems I’ve developed a new

coping mechanism

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

seeking, week

After week.

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.

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