by David D. Horowitz.
“I’m going to have the amber ale. How about I order a pitcher of it? You’re a poet! You can drink that much!”
“Actually, I don’t drink much beer—perhaps one or two glasses monthly.”
“But you’re a poet! Don’t disappoint me! Well, okay. What do you want? My treat.”
“I would really love some carrot juice, but I doubt this place features it, so I’ll order a small bottle of sparkling mineral water.”
“Carrot juice?! Okay, I’ll order a bottle of Perrier or San Pellegrino. I’ll tell the waiter when he gets here. Carrot juice?! You’re pulling my leg.”
“I’m really not. I love carrot juice, and I’m very health conscious.”
“But all the biographies and movies and TV shows…. Poets drink, for God’s sake! They’re mad with inspiration and incapacitated with despair over love gone wrong and the woes of humanity, and they’re affable rascals who down a pint every day with chums at the pub. A poet does not drink carrot juice!”
“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint, but I love carrot juice and merely like an occasional beer or ale. This poet wants clear vision and a tactful tongue, and alcohol usually yields hurtful exchanges. I know the power of words—and ‘I didn’t mean it’ rarely negates an insult.”
“Well, I’ll admit I regret some stuff I blathered while drinking.”
“And I do drink beer or ale—just not often and not much. Poetry for me is the intersection of language and music. It marries passion and precision to yield resonance. Does heavy alcoholic consumption refine one’s phrasing or deepen appreciation of a reader’s perspective? Does it intensify passion? Perhaps. More often, I dare say, it reflects fear of passion, avoidance of its complexity and depth. I don’t want to accustom myself to avoidance. Life is simultaneously glorious and brutal—but to heal the brutality I for one need a clear mind. And genuine passion feeds my desire to help. As for love, I distinguish healthy from unhealthy passion. If a woman does not want me, I go away then seek love—and meaning—elsewhere. I don’t need to be a victim; I don’t cling. And I’m a very happy person, thank you.”
“You’re making me want some carrot juice.”
“And I’m fine with a Perrier or San Pellegrino. Perhaps next time I’ll want an ice-cold amber ale. For now, a small bottle of San Pellegrino will be fine. Thank you.”