drinking again

he's been drinking

again.
there's a new dent
in his car.
i smell bourbon
on his breath. 

the new black eye is 

already turning green 

and yellow.
he lights a cigarette
and inhales deeply
as he sits on the front
porch
taking a break
from work. i ask him

why he drinks so much,

and he says i drink to

celebrate and i drink

to drown my sorrows.

there is no in between.
at fifty eight, it goes on

like this,
this runaway train,
this fear of calm.
finding comfort in
his island of  whiskey.