EIGHTEEN MONTHS

eighteen months
or thereabouts - my mantra of amazement

so 
the dr asks how much i drink

we're talking about sleep of course
she is a specialist

her 
thin face is pale and tired and blotchy
but
composed with a subdued joy

her pregnant belly rises like a tide

i say
NOTHING! FOR EIGHTEEN MONTHS!

i say it 
with 
pride and implied disaster and determination
with
light and dark and liberation
with
hints of regret at loss - of wild glory and accelerated drama
and
with
sadness and some embarrassment 
like
its almost a secret i had to stop
and
with
honest shame about how drunk i was
and
my stare is 1000 yards deep into the scuffed pattern 
of the plastic office floor

she says
OH
and makes a small quick note - an insignificant note!
thats
completely at crazy odds in its small flourish with
the
complex architecture of 
those
Eighteen Months