"Let me think: was I the same when I got up this morning? I almost think I can remember feeling a little different. But if I'm not the same, the next question is, Who in the world am I? Ah, THAT'S the great puzzle!'"

-- Alice



At the bottom of the bottle
she swigs the last of yesterday,
and wonders how the hell she got here

Little tin men march
through the battleground
of broken-heart,
weapons of choice:
deception and hurt

Like a curse
she can't wash down
with whiskey on the rocks

Sound of Taps once again
three shots fired
love is dead,
ending of choice:
desertion and OFF WITH HER HEAD

While she wonders how the hell she got here
at the bottom of a bottle and disbelief,
knowing all too well...

She sure as shit ain't Alice

and this ain't no f***ing Wonderland

(as a sidenote, Abe Rossi "Abel" has posted a phenomenal piece which is a wonderful counterpart to this one.  If interested in checking it out, the url is http://www.authorsden.com/visit/viewPoetry.asp?AuthorID=18479 )