Thursday, September 18, 2014

POEM: "At Some Point During The Night"

At Some Point During The Night

I wonder whether every sip takes and gives
away something that’s never coming back.
The illusionist so expert at indirecting
the familiar from other matters nods wisely
then pours another one. Hardly knowing why.
We barely know enough to quit. Though it’s true
that visions will read the first chapters of the mind.
But wear and tear affects the world. Snake laughs
and gives my skin to a pretty Muse who sits
with her long legs spread apart on the barstool
sipping a wet martini. Her blouse is open.
She gazes. She grins. Pokes out her tongue.
Wants me to sit down. She buys the drinks.
Keeps smiling. Not sure about this summation
or whether it’s much of a guide to being normal.

© 2014 Rob Schackne

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