Dilute the alcohol a bit, please

There was a drowning
on a beautiful day
with kids passing a beach ball
and teen drinking spiked lemon juice
and me writing a poem,
smiling at my cleverness
and how lucky I am to worry only about how things sound or look
when I hear a distant wail
and I think it’s the kids popping the ball
or a teen who has scored a kill
or some more good stuff from a brother
who wanted a brother like he is
who is nice enough to hang with his younger twerp
and then I rhyme beach with peach
which fits a soft fuzz, juicy day like today
where the sun could be out forever
longer than the kids
or the teens
who hear no more noise with enough drinks
or passes of the beach ball
and a brother drowns underneath
it all
and I do no more than this.

*

How pleasant to dehydrate myself
and to swim in liquid
that does not hydrate
but keeps me going back
to the little too little water
and a little too little alcohol
until the beach bleeds with booze
and me too
wretchedly retching the wretched
day that was too damn beautiful,
too unfair to a guy like me
because I go home like the sun
alone
and forgotten with the night