Thursday, April 06, 2006


in my glass
stands a tiny glorious sword
vanquishing an oversized olive

rivulets running down the side
trails from the edge
pooling at the apex
of the upturned cone

fluid sights
fill my vision
soft yet bright edges
unusual clarity in a clouded sort of way

I call for more
to myself of course
then the bartender speaks
I am overserved

everything is funny
nothing is important
nothing gets done
until tomorrow

my guests bemused
all burdens suspended
reason removed
a cunning plan emerges
and is quickly laughed out of sight

morning welcomes me brightly
reminds me of my calling
to live another day
in service of life itself

no task holds greater glory

First published on Tribe


Anonymous said...

An ode to a martini?

Maybe you're drinking a little too much these days, mister.


Anonymous said...

Somebody had a cast party! (Maybe it was a one-person cast party...)

Unknown said...

Thanks for looking out for me Peg but I think I have quite a long way to slide yet. I wrote it weeks ago, while sober.