Music, Poetry

Howard Hughes’n It

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I need a drink array, not just one or two, but a display.
I want coffee, water, gin and juice. My momma calls it beverage abuse
I like to sin like they do in bars. They say Howard Hughes stored urine in jars. I’ve peed in beer bottles in the backseats of cars. My closet’s full of coffee stained scars.

I’ve got san pellegrino, I’ve got a mojitto, I keep sake at 70 degrees.
Hot cocoa; I like white. Rum and iced tea. I have a bottle of whiskey that gives a good bite. I sip, spill, drip and refill, it’s not all for thrill, hooch can put up a fight.

Momma thinks I’m losing it. Doc thinks I’m abusing it. But you can tell old Jim Beam we’re alright.
Cause I’m
Howard Hughes’n
Howard Hughes’n
Howard Hughes’n
it tonight.

Went to the dentist, made me rinse with tap water, nothing to chase it, like a poor farmer’s daughter. Went to the grocer had to drink from a fountain, no lemon or lime, like some hinterland mountain. Went to the river, had nothing to drink, like a deserted, rusted up, garbage dump sink.

See I can’t be blamed, my thirst can’t be tamed, my needs won’t go unnamed. So tell Jim Bean we’re alright.
Cause I’m
Howard Hughes’n
Howard Hughes’n
Howard Hughes’n
it tonight.

~Sarah Davenport 2014

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