A/N: This poem is not intended to promote (nor condemn) the consumption of alcoholic beverages.
_______________
There's something heavy in the air.
I feel it too, my friend.
An ill wind; a sense of despair.
But what does it portend?
*
I can't imagine what's to come.
Impending war, perhaps?
A possibility, old chum.
Magnetic field collapse?
*
Well, that's a bit less likely, right?
Depends on who you ask.
Okay, that's true enough, alright.
Well, who knows? Pass the flask!
*
We've prob'ly had enough, you know.
Well, what's it matter now?
I guess if it's our time to go -
Can't change it, anyhow!
...
Dude, wake up! Get the hell off me!
What happened? We get nuked?
No, man, we had a drink, or three...
Oh, yeah! And then I puked!
*
Yeah, then you passed out on my chest.
We fell - you hit your head!
And I'm not sure about the rest -
I think we might be dead!
*
Man, why is it so stinkin' hot?
And what's that sulfur smell?
Aw, crap! I think you might be right!
Yeah, buddy. This is Hell!
***
About the Creator
Dana Crandell
Dad, Stepdad, Grandpa, Husband, lover of Nature and dogs.
Poet, Writer, Editor, Photographer, Artist
My poetry collection: Life, Love & Ludicrosity
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