Happy Hour
Worries wash down one sip at a time
but it's not about time
or circumstance
it's last nights call to the wolf
unearthed in abandonment
unabridged and speaking
with the elders,
half mad
half Italian,
jars of juice spilling
with linguine
and the longing look
of yesteryear
fantasies fulfilled
if only in mind
winking women
who have yet to try
or cry
friendships, cheers, inhibition
tomorrow
oh what is tomorrow
if it comes
the moon, the sun
lost moments
killing in the best
and worst of times
it will all be dealt with then
Copyright © Ts Poetry | Year Posted 2019
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