[Erik Olson]

Blackout

version i.

What trips my trips have laid, and where, and why,
I have forgotten—last night I drank kooks
Under the table who return like spooks
To haunt my morning: many a bruised barfly
Will sue for damages or testify;
But in my gut there stirs the worst rebukes,
For unremembered dudes who put up dukes
Now take the stand and give the evil eye.

Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree,
Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,
Yet knows its boughs more friendless than before:
I lost some friends in no time when I won
The drinking game; that summer booze in me
Drove me half mad, that in me drives no more.

version ii.

What lip my lip has hissed, and where, and why,
I know not, nor with whom I did carouse
And fight till morning; filling this courthouse,
These gauzy ghosts in bandages claim I
Blacked out their light last night as well as eye;
A fire stirs my gut, which doubt might douse—
Each unremembered claimant seems a louse,
His case a railroad and his cast a lie.

Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree,
Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,
Yet knows its boughs more friendless than before:
I lost some friends in no time when I won
The drinking game; that summer booze in me
Drove me half mad, that in me drives no more.
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