I don’t like orange juice!
They say it’s quite civilised
to sit for an hour
with a glass of orange juice
but it’s not for me!
I find it upsets my stomach.
I tried lemonade, blackcurrant etc.
None of these drinks really took my fancy.
As I am an ‘all or nothing’ type of guy
I guess my logical choice of drink
in a social setting
would be water.
If whiskey is the all
I figured, due to my twisted sense of logic
water is the nothing.
I mustn’t grumble.
Some might say
that a recovering alcoholic
should not go next nor near a pub
not even to use the restroom.
one accepts that being in pubs and bars is unavoidable.
I’m a working class Dubliner.
I live in a working class part of Dublin.
It would be akin to ignoring an ex-lover
whilst still sharing the same apartment.
You see her.
Quickly the realisation, of the bounty she possesses
rises to the forefront of your mind.
You crave her touch
you know for sure she will reciprocate your affections
but you must resist kissing or touching her
as the pain and hardship she caused you in the past
will most definitely be repeated in the future.
However spectacular the memory of her naked body.
Be polite to her
though un-emotive in her presence.
Drink some water.
The old clichés are just old clichés
though they survive because they are generally true.
One day at a time.
Never say never.
Once an alcoholic
forever an alcoholic.
So on and so forth.
These are the new rules
in the new game
I find myself playing.
I am a very boring person these days.
compared to the guy I used to be.
I grow more at ease with being
the boring me
as time goes by.
Dare I say it!
I have become comfortable being this boring
For the new boring me
never wakes up in the morning
soaked in his own piss.
He never has to suffer the looks of hurt and jaded disappointment
from family and loved ones.
He never has to go to court to explain and account
for actions he can barely remember.
He fills his time with activities
that will never have any major negative consequences.
He is happy living the ‘nothing’
instead of the ‘all’
and when he is thirsty
he drinks a glass of water.
© Kenneth Nolan
About the Author
Kenneth Nolan is a writer, playwright and poet from Dublin, Ireland. https://kennethnolan6.wordpress.com/
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