Truest alone happiest alone at peace alone scotch and ginger ale square in front of me all that I am all that I could be within that amber breath in the bubbles within the chill of the ice the warmth in the gullet as I swallow this is all that you were meant to be not poet not writer not philosopher not father not lover not husband not real-just a man lost in the glass in front of him, just the drink that barely keeps up with an unquenchable thirst