A Pretty Good Year

A good first day doesn't always make for a good year.

It was going to be
a pretty good year,
from what I remember.
It started out as they usually do,
except the snow and ice
on New Year's Eve,
in New Orleans.
That didn't seem at all normal
for the therefore restless
natives.

Then it was all down hill,
with wrecked cars,
and wrecked homes.
Hurricanes
made displaced families
question their gods,
their existences,
and their very souls.

I sit here
alone and lonely.
Contemplation is key
to my dismay.
I wish I had drank away
the best part of
this day
and this year.

It's a pity
you can't
get smashed,
on luke warm Pepsi Max,
a half carton
of Marlboro's,
crumpled dollar bill,
and bad memories.
It was going to be
a pretty good year.