POEM - EVERY FEW MONTHS

it was in December
before Christmas
I was hiding under the covers
from my hangover
I was in Las Vegas
I think
it looked like a desert
out there
but then
the whole world was lookin’
pretty dry
this headache
it wouldn’t budge
then she called me up
she called me up
every few months
to yell in my ear
tell me to stop drinking
stop wasting my time
stop wasting my life
make something of myself
she was always high on grass
when she called me up
and she’d come at me
like a raging storm
talk about meaning and god
and finding your calling
this particular morning
I started laughing
my head hurt so much
that laughter was the only thing
I could understand
“Jack,” she yelled into the phone
“I’m serious! You have talent
but you’re just gonna let it go to waste!
Cut the shit!”
“oh!” I bellowed
pulling the phone away from my face
seeing a great opportunity
to use one of those classic scapegoat lines
that she and so many other people
I’d met throughout life
repeated like a holy mantra
“oh! YOU cut the shit!
Don’t you know,
EVERYTHING HAPPENS FOR A REASON!?”