“Resist it, don’t turn to the spirit.”
I say to myself
each time we’re guests at some friend’s feast,
each time we host one and play Jacques a dit.*
Resisting the temptation from the flask,
the siren’s call luring me into mischiefs,
the perfumed beverage flowing along dirty songs,
vulgar laughters, inconsiderate words,
uttered, whispered, shouted at the face of others.

The ghost-like liquid connects my brain to nothingness,
it leads me to dreadful dead-ends,
blocks energy, shunts capacity, kills sanity.

Jacques a dit:
“rave, stumble, make a fool of yourself,
fall into the intoxications of misinterpretation,
dizziness, restlessness, forgotten caresses,
oblivion, and sofa crashes.”

* Simon Says