BRANDY FOR BREAKFAST

Adrian Fry

Artwork by Marcia Borell

I tell you, my life story is more accurately told

In bygone sips than half-remembered kisses. My Madeleine?

Childhood lemonade, iced pins and needles of an August afternoon,

Monsooning life back to a parched mouth. Or later,

The fleeting slake of cider, illicit stuff we sunk by the canal,

Playing slurred charades in the aftermath of flunked exams.

Too soon adulthood; bitter ballast beer yocked up in shame

As first workmates downed another with the professional grimace

Beloved of drinkers. Sure, I tried my luck at subtler sins,

Wine and women - tastes instantly acquired, discernment never -

And so to spirits, to Hellfire pure and simple, swift, dripfed habit

And the spiralling staircase to brandy for breakfast.