To him, food is not medicine. Medicine involves Budlight, a bottle of Jack Daniels and a multipack of vitamins you get off the counter at the corner store.
He says those vitamins keep him healthy. I’m sure they are simply a rainbow of fancy colors and as void of anything helpful as the bottle is.
It is his illusion.
Thanksgiving dinner starts with an appetizer of Crown and Coke. The main course is that 24 pack he lugged in. By the time football starts you’ll be able to smell him before you see him. Hear him from across the house.
Tell me why I can’t find the courage to pick up the phone between holidays but the moment I smell him I wish I was near him more.
Tell me why I secretly enjoy the way alcohol pours from his pores. The sourness and the sweat.