Yet another monotonous ceremony.
Running through the same lines and feelings;
I love you, ‘til death do us part, I do!
And I in penguin suit next to a friend
from days of lettermen jackets
and sneaking beers out of a damp garage
wait anxiously for libation.
They continue to check off life’s large list
of accomplishments that one can’t die without.
Meanwhile I sneak cups half full of 7-up
into the bathroom leaving enough room
for makeshift highballs from a hidden flask.
Sitting in a stall covered with erotic graffiti
I try to escape the dullness of another dry reception
while sitting on my porcelain throne.
21 at 2 A.M. and drunk again
my mind swirling in an abysmal cloud.
I am just an infant with an ID
but they bear the same birth year.
So they can go ahead and welcome
the endless bills and screams of infants.
While my friends are getting married
I’ll just be getting drunk.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.