Budweisers,

Alzheimer’s, &

Christmas Eve

It’s so much easier now 
that my mother doesn’t even know 
who I am. 

In my good old childhood days she’d feed beer

into her mouth, it'd go through her head,
wake up her dad, then she’d aim those eyes 
right at me
those dumb dull darts. 

Drinking beer by the cases. 

Tonight, when she looks over at me
just like when she was drunk

though her aim is off
she sees nothing
those eyes empty  

as pillow cases. 

The woman never was nothing but 
a stocking stuffer. 

It's a happy new year.