Would You Like Coffee in Your Tequila?

Constantine’s terrified, tortured liver
is under siege from an ethanol river.
He’s converted his laundry into a brewery.
The old geezer’s backyard distillery
is flanked by beer can pyramids
as legendary as Giza.
His wine rack has more shelves
than the Library of Congress.
He lists vodka, whisky, Cognac
and bourbon as separate hobbies
and gets angry when you tell him
a flagon of rum after breakfast
is neither normal, nor the best way
to prepare for the daily commute.
Constantine’s zombie movie collection
is scattered across the cellar floor
to make room for compilations of beer commercials.
He believes the legal limit is 5%.
Alcohol from specimen jars in the museum
disappeared the same night
his local bottle shops went on strike,
but he’s not an alcoholic, just ask him.

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