Only drink with Irishmen, have predictable friends.

My stomach always settles
as I do the dishes the next day
since through the haze
of that familiar ache
I know

that the square tumbler was his because
like a true connoisseur
he drinks it straight on the rocks

but the beer mug belonged to his brother
who goes for maximum comfort
and needs a firm grip for when he falls asleep
on my couch mid-conversation

while
whatever's the largest drinking vessel in the sink
fell victim to an old crony who always over-compensates
for showing up late to the party by drinking himself
right out of the game prematurely
leaving just in time for work the next morning

and the tall skinny one was mine
because...

I'm not sure why
that's just how it works out

or does it?