A poem written by Paula Golden, a mother of three.
Iced tea, water or ginger ale,
or crash your car and go to jail.
What makes you want to drink all night?
Curse, get rude then start a fight.
You don’t even know what day it is.
People around you just want to live.
Think you’re macho or trying to impress
the giggling girl with the short tight dress.
You grab your keys when you leave the bar,
far from sober when you get in your car.
Everyone wonders how far you will go.
Wish for a flat tire so your car gets towed.
Drink all you want, but don’t drive a car.
Ask for a cab or walk home from the bar.
Call a sober friend to come pick you up.
Get the car later when you’ve sobered up.
Yes, you can drink, but not to get drunk,
‘cause when you’re drunk, you act like a punk.
You want to get arrested and piss in a cup?
It isn’t that attractive for a mature grown-up.
Blowing in a test tube that reads a .08.
Guess you’ll share a cell with a lewd inmate.
There goes your car, your license--your job.
Can’t walk a straight line and you look like a slob.
You killed a family, a child, a husband or wife,
for the love of alcohol and the partying life?
Let’s rewind and when you get drunk again,
please take the time to call up a sober friend.
Thanks go to you for saving lives on the road,
including your own when you arrive safely home.