Having a Problem 

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Evidence:                        my esophagus a scorched field,
                                        my stomach drowned men by the dozen.
 
                                        my head a zeppelin flaring,
                                        my eyes that of a man with a month in the hole.
 
                                        my elbows prize fighters in their twilight years,
                                        my knees child-dirty, my words my own language.
 
                                        I construct a mannequin from Vodka fifths
                                        and used Nicorette gum. I make a bet with myself
                                        as to who will fall first. I lose.
 
                                        I promise myself I’ll quit three and a half years ago. Make it four.

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