Whiskey

I think of my father when I down shots of whiskey;
it’s too strong for me, it burns my throat to numbness
and yet I cannot stand the weaker stuff.

I get a headache after the third shot, but I can still take more.
By the fifth I know I should stop,
but the glass doesn’t go into the sink until the seventh or eighth.

The morning after is when I try to remember why,
if it makes me feel so bad,
do I love whiskey?