I Don’t Like Gin

 
I don’t like gin.  It tastes like pine needles.
But, when that’s all ya got, that’s all ya got.
Mix that with a little of that cheap ass wine
The boys drink down behind the railroad depot
Where they hang out late at night being barred
From any club.  Savages, some say.  Deadly,
Booze soaked naked apes missing teeth,
Talkin’ shit like it’s stone God fact.
Maybe it is.  Who the fuck really knows for sure?
Cousin Jimmy might know.  He’s gone now.
He was well known by all the regulars at the
Green Door.  Day shift, night shift, everybody.
Hadn’t seen him for years.  I miss his humor.
I miss him.  A lot of us do.