Having spent the evening
getting drunk with twenty-year-olds
and bumming countless cigarettes
which will intensify tomorrow’s hangover,
I find myself behind the wheel
navigating a gauntlet of law enforcement
eager to take me down;
a DUI would wipe me off the map—
And who would I even call?
Certainly not that cute redhead
who told me I was older than her father
when I tried to get her number.
Ben Newell lives in Mississippi where he works as a bookseller and freelance writer. His poems have appeared online and in print, most recently at Fixator Press and Cajun Mutt Press. He taught high school English for one day.
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