It's 2am, I'm driving away, and everything evaporates.

all the secrets I've told tonight, all the secrets I'll never tell

melt into one giant blob

makes it hard to walk upstairs

what's upstairs? some place I call home.

I need some food. I have no money,

I do what my mother taught me

in times of need:

"always have a sack of grits and a carton of eggs"

although I don't remember buying them,

I have them

I remember her warmth and her wisdom but

I don't remember her saying it,

maybe it was just me?

1 cup grits

1 2/3 cup water

some salt, whatever

throw it in the microwave, in that

pyrex bowl I bought at a thrift store

add some salt, to taste

To taste: oh, what a feeling. I can't taste anything right now but oh

that egg, slightly uncooked

poured atop those grits and salt and water

tastes like home

I might be able to forget tonight.

oh, to forget: the enemy of the drunk twenty-something

the girl who needs to remember

might always choose to forget