Another old one:

boozeville

at 10 i'd steal
a pack of the old man's
camels & fill a big
empty listerine bottle with
some of his booze
make sure to run water
back in the fifth so
the loss wouldn't be
so noticable

then off to the
lumber yard
i'd cut through
wooden valleys
between stacks
find a shorter
pile somewhere in
the middle

my nose filled w/the
smell of sawn pine & oak
poplar & sycamore
momentarily
good sweet camel &
kentucky's finest
sipping whiskey

i'd sip away
lying there on my back
atop a wood stack
with the blue sky
revolving around my head
my mind flying
w/the clouds
on alcohol & tobacco

i could get
high just
inhaling those
unfiltered shorts

a drunken
young thing all
full of myself
i'd dream of
killing people
i'd heard
about in
someplace called
north korea

& about
hank williams
who died drunk
in the back
seat of a car

& about my
fishing pole
& the river
swimming down by
the bluffs where
snakes sunned
on the rocks

the wooden
planks on the
bridge that
clattered musically
when cars passed over

4 years later i
drank a whole fifth
of the old man's
seagrams golden gin
while the folks were
out juking one
saturday night

they came in after
midnight & found me
lying in the
kitchen floor
out cold

dad was angry that
i'd drunk his booze
but i heard
a trace of pride
when he said
you drank that
whole bottle
by youself

that listerine bottle
& the woodstacks
were the start of
a half-century road
to boozeville & back
w/all the good & bad
that brings

but damn
i hope to tip
a couple more before
they slam the lid
and say so long
old hoss

ride
steady