DRAMBUIE LIPS THEY CALLED ME

Drambuie lips they called me, it was dripping off them all the time. This sweet liqueur I poured wantonly down my throat and all over my lips, dripping off like fine brown crystals, hitting the concrete and making it sweet and wooozy. Sometimes if I dripped enough the concrete would wrench itself from the ground and stumble over to the park bench with me. It's heavy, cracking arm around my shoulder, slurring into my ear it's pledges of friendship and willingness to crush anybody who spoke poorly of me.