i wish i could do it the art thing —
most mornings after a benderwhen the moorings have loosenedi drift on shakey from the nighthead in my hands regret on my…
it all started with a beer that took me closer away
there was a time before the machinesthe humans say
Friday night, and i’m drinking my waycloser to you — the way we were when we first met
what is there left to saythat wasn’t said?
that first gulp or puff pulled downin lungs or stomached
it floats under the river and flies over the air
tunnel vision —
the final goal a career and a familythen retirement spent in relaxation
every single damn day usually after work and before sleep he churned for her