Hold my beer, dear,
While I am writing these words of love,
And listen to what keeps us here,
When we belong
To the wider party we hear outside the walls.
Hold my head, dear,
I am feeling sick and the room spins,
And I can’t bear the thumps,
And I should have smoked less of these cigarettes of yours.
Hold me in your arms,
I am falling from your hands as would a greek gift,
I’m not bad but shinny things mislead me,
And I chased the easy ones with an even stride.
Hold your breath now,
We’re going through the roughest patch of the poem ;
Where you’ll learn I’ve been unfaithful in the party we’ve joined.
And these women are still with me like a sickness I won’t cure,
Like sirens I paid for a song and won’t mute.
Hold your judgement, my dear, anyone’s life’s hard enough,
I had to explore what was sung in the songs,
You had to wait for me, beer in hand,
And now you should cheer
And drink all that’s left in the can.
Image credit : Brad Pitt by Ryan McGinley, 2017