THIS IS A POEM ABOUT THE DANGERS OF DRINKING AT DUSK 5.28 17

5.28.17

There we were at dusk,

Ladyface having swallowed the sun,

the sky purple.

We were sitting,

an empty wine bottle moping center-table,

and four adults staring into our

cups at the pitiful liquid we

were all delaying the drinking of until

we could confirm the existence of a second bottle,

just four adults, and silence,

and a freshly grilled tri-tip bleeding on a

cutting board, and your terrific husband

with the sudden interjection:

 

I just realized. We’ve been sitting here for seven hours.

For seven hours we’ve been drinking.

 

Anticipation broke my heart in two.

I thought, briefly, that this man was going

to reveal to me the treacherous extent

of my own depravity. But nothing happened.

You started smoking again,

and the sweet scent of cigarillos filled the air

once more.


Written at 10:59 at night, in my office, in Agoura Hills CA, while receiving an unsolicited notice on my computer that reads “you will be waking up in 9 hours. 

 

 

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