Balls in a Bottle

One day during high school I was sitting around with a few friends, drinkin’ beer and being masculine. I believe the topic of conversation was one guys inability to ask a girl out. Unfortunately for him there was no solid advice being offered but plenty of invalidation. All in good fun. One of my friends put the punctuation on this particular topic by saying “Brian, you just gotta get your balls outta the bottle and do what needs doing.” Balls in a bottle, I thought the phrase was a brilliant encapsulation of liquid courage. And so with that phrase in mind comes this poem. (( I realize I’ve written pragmatically here in conflict with some previous statements I’ve made before but (1) I’m cutting in close again and (2) it is what it is.))

God Damn dick gets numb
and you can't muster
the courage
for a proper, what?
"I'll call you."
That'd do.

I left my balls in a bottle
Again.
Back at bar What's-Its-Name.Spent the night spinning with
silly brain and What's-Her-Name.

God Damn dick gets numb.
What are you gonna do?
Vomit in porcelain,
stains on sheets,
and not a loose dime
or quarter
left.

I'll hopscotch it back to my joint.
Wait out the thunder head.
And do it again.

Thursday night.
Balls in a bottle.
and a grown man throwing strikes.
Dawn be the only thing giving me grief.

written for the april poem-a-day every-once-in-a-while exercise

April 07 2007 11:23:28 PM EDT