poem of the day 02.18.11

sound advice

i give sound advice
when i’ve been drinking

it should almost be philosophy

such a wise man

i’m surprised that i don’t have
my own call-in show and loyal fan base

i give sound advice to my wife’s friend
telling her not to sleep with her new boyfriend
until at least april

(it’s february)

make him wait, i say
leaning in with an endless pint glass
glued to my hand
that genius smirk running down my face

unaware that somewhere in america
i might’ve just killed a man’s ambition

at least for a few months

sound advice
you can only get it
from a drunk like me
restless and lost in a dive bar on a friday night

i know everything
i think i’m plato
and i can’t believe that i’m giving
this stuff away

my sound advice
my soused philosophy

i look around the bar
and wonder why these people aren’t
on their knees at my feet

i should have them lining up
in this place

get myself one of those
charles schulz advice kiosks
plant my drunken ass there
instead of on this barstool

and help every other lost soul
find their way

the bartender who keeps hitting on
women who don’t want him

the drunk with his head down

the next fool who staggers in the front door

i’ll get them euphoric on such
sound advice

charge everyone a draft a problem

scrawl my diagnosis down
in a notebook stinking of old whiskey

such sound advice

my wife tells me to play us some songs
and she and her friend go back to talking
while i stagger out of my stool
with whatever money i have left

i see my face in the reflection
off the jukebox

i’m not even me anymore

i am schopenhauer
i am nietzsche or freud
i am kant and heidegger rolled into one

i am socrates as i turn back
to catch the bartender putting another
pint in front of me

another glass of golden wisdom
another round of sound advice

or the cup of hemlock that they’ve been
pushing to give me all night.