On Alcohol

all of them were old enough to be my grandparents

none of them were young enough to by my parents

I never wanted to drink

to occupy the hands so that they wouldn’t

peel the frayed cuticles

so that the teeth wouldn’t

bit the lips

so the brain wouldn’t

freeze

I never waned

to want this

to understand the logic of the mouths

that drank the blood

or the willingness to take another glass

even though your car is outside for you to drive it

I never wanted

to understand

understanding becomes acceptance

acceptance becomes compliance

compliance, surely death

I took a sip of my 0 proof

blood orange soda

wishing that it would turn into wine

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