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 problems through unfiltered thoughts and whisky logic smoking swisher sweets while nodding heads agreeing that a godless world is better off dead. The next morning, the sky was hungover they tallied tackle and fired up grandad's motor. That night, they gazed upon Gods waning embers beholding 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 caste in a sacred place they lay an old fisherman's hat.