Away from the Precipice

I'm sitting here at the Loony Ben Bar and Grill
wondering if madness is contagious.
I know paranoia is just a heightened state of awareness
but try telling that to the fools
playing poker with a euchre deck.

I find myself becoming the epitome of
sanity and reason and
fear that I will be so overcome with
long periods of lucidity, Pavlov's dog
will look like a free spirit.

I had a brilliance for buffoonery,
back then, when Johnny Walker
was just a good drink of scotch
and I could slip into my ruby slippers.

The toads under the tables are not
singing lullabies,
I can't find any damn porkrinds,
the pretzels are not in knots.
My husky voice is no longer
suited for the penumbra of love,
but what a magnificent facade
I managed atop red footwear.

Hell, I'll just order a double shot of fuckitude and
head on down to the Spivey Corners Hollering Contest.

Bobbie Kilzer Gogain