Drinking Alone in the Sunshine
Vodka smiles up
from a glass.
Paint me in a garden chair
with nothing in it,
but the swing of white trousers.
Where are my friends,
my wife,
children, grandchildren?
A fat creamy dog licks my toes.
All who ever claimed to know of me
are right here
on the rim of this glass
as the ice slowly melts –
some cling to a slice of lime
that can no longer support them.
The day lengthens,
a shadow returns,
peddling pantomimes
I watch behind heavily curtained lids,
recollect nothing, remember everything,
until a calling moon chimes out.
The dawn will arrive with a dew
as fresh as tears.
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