Musings by The Poet Loriet
Where Everybody Knows Your Name
As you set down my
third glass of
White Zinfandel,
you came over to
whisper in my ear.
I thought you would say
something sweet, something
to make me smile, so
I smiled warmly as
you approached, but
you didn't smile back.
With a serious look,
you whispered a very
well-enunciated,
"Don't. Get. Drunk."
My eyes flashed anger.
How dare you tell me
how much I can drink,
and when I ordered
glass number four,
you stopped them
from bringing it.
You know that I get
tipsy at two, that
three is my absolute limit,
and I went from angry
to being touched,
knowing you cared.
I told you when
you brought the first,
I needed ten more and
you asked me, "What's wrong?"
I wouldn't tell you, but
you knew I didn't
want to stop,
not tonight.
Next time I have an urge
to get really drunk,
I have to remember
not to go to the bar
where everybody knows my name
and my drink limit.
Lori Beal
third glass of
White Zinfandel,
you came over to
whisper in my ear.
I thought you would say
something sweet, something
to make me smile, so
I smiled warmly as
you approached, but
you didn't smile back.
With a serious look,
you whispered a very
well-enunciated,
"Don't. Get. Drunk."
My eyes flashed anger.
How dare you tell me
how much I can drink,
and when I ordered
glass number four,
you stopped them
from bringing it.
You know that I get
tipsy at two, that
three is my absolute limit,
and I went from angry
to being touched,
knowing you cared.
I told you when
you brought the first,
I needed ten more and
you asked me, "What's wrong?"
I wouldn't tell you, but
you knew I didn't
want to stop,
not tonight.
Next time I have an urge
to get really drunk,
I have to remember
not to go to the bar
where everybody knows my name
and my drink limit.
Lori Beal
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Where Everybody Knows Your Name
Where Everybody Knows Your Name
