Haze

Mildly inquisitive, I watch
The city pass me by from your back seat.
I do not have to drive. I drink your Scotch
(Open container? Bah.) which burns so sweet
And hot inside me. Yeah, you might have been
Saving it for yourself, but I don't care.
I wanted something, and, well, it was there,
Another day it might have been my gin
But there's no tonic water in the back
And I'm impatient. Actually, I meant
To talk to you about that little lack,
But you drove, and I drank, and there we went.
I wonder idly if we'll ever stop
And find I've drunk the bottle - every drop.