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Two Drink Minimum
The bar is empty except for me and some old memories.
The smoke flows to the celling as I sit underneath the neon sign.
recalling old friends and new regrets.
Miles behind me yet only a thought away.
I recall the feel of the embrace.
The tortured soul that guided this broken soul to this
empty place.
Theres a two drink minimum and i nurse the forth.
As the whiskey burns taking me back to my southern roots.
far from these cold nothern nights and snow covred streets.
Far from her warm welcome arms and and soft gentle ways.
Emptyness and drinks dont always mix well.
Motels and dirty mirrors often dont reflect where you are.
As time slowley does pass.
Confessions to a tired bartender.
Who long since has outgrown the two drink minimum of this
frozen empty bar.
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