I sit in a hazy hole of drunken misconceptions
staring with disdain at a few select men
who sit perched over glass roses,
filled with an amber liquid
and a maraschino cherry.
They clutch the crystal stems and take sips
in between mumbled words.
There is a single connecting look
in every pair of eyes.
It is the look of being
so damned discontent.
And they’re drinking away yesterday,
I can see it as it leaves their minds.
They try to drink fast enough
to forget today and yesterday
all at once.
But they never quite succeed,
though it doesn’t keep them from trying.
And I know that if I stumble into the same bar
at about the same time tomorrow,
they’ll be there again,
sipping cocktails from glass roses
that have no leaves or thorns
and smiling at the notion
that they no longer have a past. |
Submission Name: Glass Rose Cocktail
