7th Weekend Of The Year - Poem by Gary Diamond
The weekend had come.
It blended into everything else.
I was drunk through most of it
some old friends had come to stay at the house
and we played a lot of cards.
I didn’t win much but that wasn’t the point.
The alcohol was flowing, the company was good and that was what counted.
On Saturday we had destroyed a guitar.
It was a cheap piece-of-shit balsa wood
and it had smashed after a few strikes.
it felt good to indulge in mindless
Sunday came around.
I awoke with another hangover
I guessed it must be six by now.
I was impressed
that I had managed
to get drunk
six days out of seven.
It started to get interesting
when we all sat around the same table
with a pack of cards
I came back with ten lagers
some cider and blackcurrant.
We were making snakebite and black.
It tasted like cordial but mixing
the two types of alcohol
was a sure way to get yourself ready
in a hurry.
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