Elevator to the Gallows by Alan Catlin

They must stay up nights
thinking up stupid cocktails
to foist off on the young and
impressionable, cynical shit
made with stuff that doesn’t go
together, like Gin, Vodka, Rum
and Rye, partial shots of each topped
off with Irish crème and stirred,
served as a shooter and given
gross names with sexual connotations,
knowing full well that the name will sell
the drink and all they will taste is
Irish crème until they chuck it all up.
None of the names will turn up in
an over the counter bar guide:
Bloody Orgasms, Blow Jobs, Blow Jobs
with Extra Tongue, Purple Jesus Motherfuckers;
Cumshots, we call them in the trade,
and I’m willing to bet there is some
slick, greasy, smartass fuck in NYC
who’s taking all the credit for inventing
the trend.  If there is and someone finds him:
this Between the Eyes with a Silver Bullet
is for him.

Alan Catlin
Alan Catlin is the poetry editor of misfitmagazine.net. His latest books of poetry are American Odyssey from Future Cycle and Last Man Standing from Lummox Press
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