O’ Bourbon!


You, the Kentucky cousin of Crown Royal
that courses through me like a racehorse
(while making time with Stevia Coca-Cola),
turns this classy lass into a good time gal.

Whiskey helped facilitate my firstborn;
now you work your spirit magic,
turning this desperate housewife
into a happy homemaker . . . 

To Bourbon,
..who tumbles over rocks
….to be my lucky amber penny.

To Bourbon,
..who blends well in mixed company
….and takes the jagged edge off.

To Bourbon,
..who smooths the wrinkles
….in my occasionally-overstuffed shirt.

To Bourbon—
..this working-class girl’s whiskey
….and friend to the unemployed.

To Bourbon,
..who makes me laugh at random things
….and gets me rambling about random things.

To Bourbon,
..whose strength I can control and
….whose weakness cannot control me.

To Bourbon:
..You are my lift before a public speech,
….my muscle relaxer before a medical procedure. (Yes, THAT one.)

O’ Bourbon,
give me my Ryan,
even a Madeleine,
or better yet,
pull a Solomon
and separate the egg
(you know the recipe),
and just tell my husband
to “Make it a double.”