When Once is Enough

Waking up in the drunk tank
is like no other experience.
There are worse things,
but it never seems so at the time.

Confusion, wonder and worry—
where am I?
And, how did I get here?
What are these bruises?
Is that blood? My blood?
I know this headache but at a lower volume.

Who is talking to me?
Fuck! I’m in jail.
I only know what they tell me
and everybody lies.
Another blackout. No memory.
And nobody ever forgives a drunk.
Not even, especially not, this one.

Look both ways, but every action has consequences regardless of the human condition.
Mind the gaps caused by lost memories.