To make my stepfather drunk and happy.
I knew just how far a shot of Seagram's
Would fill a glass stacked to the top with ice
Crackling and melting under putrid sweet fumes.
The rest was easy - pour in 7up to the rim,
Watch the bubbles fizz, stir for luck -
Then quickly steal a sip.
Deliver to the card table or basement with a smile,
Watching as grown-ups drained the solution
To all of their pains and troubles and memories.
My perfect advertisement for partaking
Smiled and laughed instead of glaring and berating.
Glassy pink eyes looked sweetly into mine
And showed me the better angels lost inside
Flesh preserved in 80 proof and nicotine.
Inhibitions unchained set free the ability
To display love and tenderness, albeit sloppily.
Even at 7, I knew the recipe for love.
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