Sip Shadows
wraiths, figures of mist, four dimensional misfits of
used to be dancing reruns of former frenzies, hung
in timeless movements of spaced out incoherency
like milk spotted eyeglasses still running wetly
such are the thoughts of a freaked out old poet
searching for answers in half empty mixes of potions
divining the swirling twirling juxtaposition of
several liquids creating a picture of wraithlike motions
To be swallowed as quickly as evening twilight allows
Magical mixtures erasing the moments relaxing the driving
Emotional tide causing and pausing the need to decide
Revealing a passenger on for the ride
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