Bar Top Review

"Do you want ice with It?" Why not, the deep snow will be more slidable. I rattle the cubes. A snowstorm keeps me twisting and corkscrewed even when at rest. 'Not too cold for you?" I am muffled cocooned in layers of invisibility. My spine is insulated, flesh mummified yet under these red lights, I almost glow. "Where are all your friends?" They shelter in empty shot glasses, the whisky in them is still warm. They die alone while talking to my memory. "What's your problem Mr.?" It's that mirror back of the bar it keeps thawing and dripping, soon my face will emerge, and its eyes will be forever unlocked and open.