Occasions

photo by Vladimir Sukhachev

last year
the building contractors 
delivered gifts at christmas:
cards, wine, whiskey
and I kept them safe
in kitchen cabinets
for occasions 
and special occasions. 
it was gone inside a week
and the mornings
were bottles 
rolling on the carpet.
we didn't have anything to do,
and we were thirsty 
and the stores 
all closed. no celebrations
with a death in the family.
I tell myself that was the reason 
we drank 
tangled on the sofa, banging glass
against our teeth. me, 
holding forth on art 
and religion;
you lying back
with the dog on your belly,
poking holes
in my various tirades. chrysty, I won't deny 
I sometimes have trouble 
with alcohol. 
but I've had good nights also
these last nights
with you. if trouble
is the word for our life
then that word is wrong. and if all occasions 
are not special
none can be.