hammered at the intervention

I was hammered

at the intervention

drunk on a

bourbon bender

–walking in

at first light of day

into a

crowded room

crammed with the pious

the teetotalers,

the caffeine junkies

the newly saved

the members of the clergy

the neglected son

the vindictive daughter

the condescending,

next door stoop sitters

and

the supercilious shrew

from the paint store

who’d dropped in

to watch the mop up

to see the boss

meet his match

ungloved at last

there to see the

New Reality unveiled

when the old bastard

finally gets his

and to watch

(happily)

as he’s driven away

where Jim Beam

can’t find him

and when it is time

I clear my throat

and carefully construct

a most eloquent

rendition of the facts

at the end of which

I wish Russell well

in his recovery.