the new Christmas sweater

i tell the clerk 

at the liquor store 

that i'm attending 

a Christmas party tonight,

and need a

recommendation

on a drink

that will make me

smart and funny,

clever, and able to withstand

a few hours of small talk,

but not drunk,

or obnoxious after

three tumblers.

maybe a little buzzed,

but not

swaying, or getting

sick.

hmm. he says.

i think i have just

the thing for you.

are you possibly having

a romantic interlude

that evening? we don't

want to ruin that, you know?

maybe, i tell him. i'm

hopeful.

i'm wearing my new Christmas

sweater,

so i may get a lot of attention.

let's see he says,

as we walk down the long

aisles of alcoholic

spirits.

wine? nah, the tannic

acids give me a headache.

what about,

rum, no, i got sick on that

in high school and now

i can't even smell the stuff.

tequila?

hmmm. maybe.

or perhaps a good scotch.

people are impressed when

you drink scotch, he says.

makes you look

literary and mature. wise.

you just sip it and observe

the crowd. no need to talk

much.

that's it, i tell him.

give me the big jug

and ring it up.