Drunk Dial

Dial "D" for drinking, delving
     deep into the night
Something sough in speech and thought
     between these cloudy pints
Early springtime midnights come to
     mind; they're just like this one
Pensive breezes
     And brains buzzing, spinning
At 33 rotations every minutes in my kitchen.

You've dialled "S," you're seated
     at the bottom of a hole
Seated just where I was sitting
     back when I was just that old.
You think you're drawn and quartered
     (well, you're clearly being pulled)
Ablutions aren't easy
     But I know they're necessary
In these sorts of situations if you really want relief

So, dialing "L" for late nights, losing
     sleep beneath the porch light
You can linger on your litanies,
     mop your words out of your mouth
Until they pile up on the floor.
Then you can find your way and wade out
     or just sit and soak them up.

So it's dial "C" for chugging coffee
Building coffins, catching colds.
For cogitating childish thoughts,
For ceding sleep while growing old.