Champagne Mugs
They arrived in rusted cars and ancient trucks.
Slugged blue-collar champagne from coffee mugs.
Playing one-eyed poker with calloused hands.
Laughing like jackals -cussing like burning crabs.
They solved all of the world's many problems.
Through unfiltered thoughts and whisky logic.
Smoking Swisher Sweets while nodding heads.
Agreeing between puffs and silver nods,
That a godless world is better off dead.
The next morning, the sky was hungover.
They tallied tackle and fired up grandad's Evinrude motor.
That night, they gazed upon God's waning embers.
Enshrining lost lunkers and the ghosts of old friends.
Sunday morning, they slowly packed up paradise.
Hand-me-down tackle and one-eyed smiles.
An angel in the shallows waved them goodbye.
Down a dirt road they drifted away like misty skies.
The following year there'd be one less from the caste
In a sacred place they laid an old fisherman's hat.
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