Apart from cracks on the Formica
counter top around the bending
curve of my eye I can not discern
anything through my shot glass
The rumblings of a city in dusk
seep through the slurry of hushed
undertones merging stainless steel
clinks from glasses slowly stirred
In this labyrinth collecting mirrors
no one bothers looking at each other
directly for the point of that was lost
long ago with the reflected hosts
I sink into the magnified pores
of her face held balanced on a stack
of merging surface edits like a drawn
bath displaced by a weary body
It's been many revolutions since
I can remember spring time
and for that I should ordinarily feel
sadder than the beer ads on the wall
Cheerfully I determine that mixing
drinks with indentured silver ware
may distract the focus from a certain
familiar melody floating by
Its coruscating pattern of decaying
notes drifts along into the distance
like so many flakes of ash rendered
gray as the moon in winter
The cracked fields of this lit valley
fade before the inland sea evaporates
into silence here on a world whose
name evokes nothing but dirt
I'd rather not think about it since
my drink became too evenly mixed
for me to want another sip from
the cold inversion boiling outside