Alcohol! The enemy of truth!
“In vino veritas” is what they say.
But “caveat emptor,” Tony. The proof
Is in the pudding. For self-love you’d pay,
Or love of others, but they can’t be bought.
So you drink more, if only to forget
Those truths. Then, even thought itself is caught
In golden pools of fantasy. When wet,
Your thoughts are slippery. Sloppy writing,
Strumming, loving, yes even love itself
All are a hazy mirage, exciting
But ever out of reach, on a tall shelf,
Like fireworks when they’re eyed by a small boy
Too young to buy them. Wooden horse of Troy!
Wed 20 Sep 2006
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