I down a bullshit soda 
that I pulled from a cooler,
it mimics the fruity beer I drowned myself 
in a summer-ago.
Don't dive into my pity fest,
Don't buy into my jokes,
Don't ask if my mother is okay. 
Family reunions are drowned out 
by the smell of desperation
and hiding pills my psychiatrist gave me,
A hint of weed
and God knows what else.
Deviled eggs are shoved down
my throat as I kill my anger
with the food my aunt
graciously made,
another soda,
another cig.
My grandmother shoots across
the lawn in her wheelchair,
no doubt to tell me that it's time to grow up.