gettin’ slizzered
and a prayer candle still burning, hours later.
by nat raum
After a line in “Like a G6” by Far East Movement
why get sober? no answer is as true as:
got way too good at drunk driving when being
a creature of habit meant ordering beer after beer,
sometimes margaritas, sometimes sake or rosé
or simply tequila and soda, but always too much,
and never a word from anyone to the effect of maybe
don’t drive. too drunk to cook bulgogi on the tabletop,
supposedly falling asleep in front of a crush instead. no
memory of driving home, a second slumber
stumbled upon as bathwater cools around
limp limbs. wake up to tepid soap scum
and a prayer candle still burning, hours later.
months later, hang with the same boy as before,
but the boyfriend is someone else—universally
disliked. go to frijoles and order frozen
margs, three of which are the perfect lubricant
for an old-times-sake drive to the parkville taco bell,
quesarito lukewarm by the time it reaches
remington. by the time it dawns that blackout
blinds are drawn, making highway lights look like
sunrise. or maybe that’s actually sunrise.
nat raum (b. 1996) is a disabled artist, writer, and genderless disaster based on unceded Piscataway and Susquehannock land in Baltimore. They’re the editor-in-chief of fifth wheel press and the author of this book will not save you, the abyss is staring back, random access memory, and others. Past and upcoming publishers of their writing include Gone Lawn, Split Lip Magazine, Allium, and BRUISER. Find them online at natraum.com.
