bag up some fruit
drop a pound of sugar in it, ferment  
burp it daily like a baby, five days
make sure it doesn’t turn into vinegar  
a gallon       gets you five recycled plastic bottles
that’s 25 bucks for some buck 
 if cooked right, two will get you right  
plus a six dollar cigarette 
pieces of Cadillac mufflers
thick chemical fog tickling the ether
passing away anxiety with each pass between you and two dudes
that you met in prison . . .friends
though ya’ll will never call each other that
with each swig lips loosen up   
trading war stories, half of them fiction
if cooked right . . .one bottle will get you right
one swallow, you can almost feel the holiday of a memory
amongst friends you weren’t ashamed of calling friends
when laughter was genuine
and just for a second, after your second bottle
it’ll taste like freedom
but only for a second
and only if it’s cooked right