242/365: Drinking It Down

I ordered a beer.
It was natural
like I'd done it thousands of times before,
because I had.
I drank it down
and ordered another,
and ordered another,
and it was only after the last
when I wheeled around on my stool to leave
and measured my weight along my feet, heel to toe,
that I remembered
I had been three years and fourteen days sober,
and I smashed my way up through to wakefulness,
pressed open dry lids with the heels of my palms,
and wept.
I had drunk it down.
I still wanted to drink it down.
Was I still drinking it down?
I felt a profound failure of the heart,
oh my failing heart.
I was dry and undone,
laid out and weathered,
torn down to the last,
and no better for the dreaming.

#365poems at Schmutzie.com