The dog is staring at me. He knows I want to run screaming into the night. A block or so away is booze. The forbidden nectar. Forbidden to me because I need a drink so bad. The trick of my brand of alcoholism is that I’m only allowed to drink when I don’t need a drink. Wanting a drink is OK, but needing is verboten. The real trick then is to be honest with myself about what is want and what is need. Often a mighty struggle, but not tonight. Tonight I know there is no doubt. It is need.