performed by Val Cole

POEM:

the warm, cheap wine
doesn’t taste good but
at least the sea is
mine

I chug what I should have sipped
suppress what I could have done
none of it matters, the money is gone
my father is dead

and the wine is flowing in my blood
just like it did in his when he died
just like his genes flow in mine
another drink, then

I’m at the beach by myself
again, but I don’t feel alone
when staring at the big big
blue I always think of him

I’m sure there was a reason for it
but now all that comes to mind
is how this is way nicer than the
grey sea cousin we dumped him in

I ask the guy to make it strong