I’ve Had a Few

I’ve Had a Few

I’ve had a few. Regrets. A few too many.
I’m hung over with that ache, the burn
of unrecoverable loss; I yearn to get it back
so I can put it right, but turn away. That is a sight
for strong men.

I’ve binged on other things that took my sense away.
Life’s T.A.B. next door, I gambled on my sozzled nous.
That worked out how? I have those slips still somewhere,
worthless, now as then.

I’ll crack another bottle of cold memory.
A minute’s silence, please: remembrance of
events long-dead, in effervescence of regret.

A swig. Those bubbles scour my sinuses and
In my cups I taste the salty sacrifice historians
don’t taste, while bringing back to life the dead.

I pawned time for another shot, time and time
again I’d do it. I still have some here somewhere.

Ah, those tickets.
But I know,
some day, like fallen leaves returning to the tree,
on that counter, my tickets all arrayed
will be, in antique red, marked, “Paid.”

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