How's Your Math My Younger Friend

I usually relate to you as a brother.

I continue to do so, but here, also,

take audience as an Elder.

Take it as you will.

It is only of the I

in good regard of you,

and it's only of the

math of Crown vs. Beer.

As wisdom, you either know to sip,

Or instead, set the bottle aside.

For me,

My man, learning to sip whiskey

is an art.

A tiny trill upon the tongue

exquisitely suffices.

For you,

My friend, your Crown by the beaker

and then quaffed;

Is overwhelming for both a man, or

even grand bull ox.

My man,

My gawd, point oh eight is but,

a couple of shots

And you've quickly consumed four

cups of eight ounce.

M gawd,

My friend, you've full snarfed down

alcohol poisoning

Done as a man with a funnel over

two case of beer.

It's little wonder then you fell out, puked, and

ended the night; with your head in your hands.

(21 June '19)