A Quarter til 2 a.m.

Pulling up to the liquor store drunk

as you stumble out

and mingle among the

other late night customers

looking to eradicate the night.

It's the usual mix of night crawlers

hanging around making one last

purchase before they go home.


Long days at work,

relationships going nowhere,

careers stalled out,

endless unemployment,

addictions to various vices,

the emptiness of a hollowed out tree.


You grab your bottle

(or bottles, depending how bad

that day was), it's most likely

in either a black plastic bag

or a paper one, and take it into

the car for the drive home.


Killing the engine in the driveway,

keys are fumbled for as the wrong

one and eventually the right one

battles the keyhole. You push the

door open and slam it shut before

you have the chance to put on a

light switch.


In your room you put on some music

to listen to from your computer as

you begin to change into your sleep

clothes.


There is a glass from last night

sitting there on the desk top.

You empty some of the bottle into it


It goes down fast and burns a path

to the bloodstream. The senses dull

at an alarming pace.


Another glass is poured.


Then one more...


then another...


and


eventually


the darkness finds you


places you in bed and whispers


in your ear,


"Good night. I'll see you tomorrow."