Last Call

Resting on the pavement –
A cigarette and enough time
to look at a star up high,
the brightest;
a radiant fireball dripping splendor,
an omen.

Perhaps I should go into this bar…
This binge started at some other bar, I’m sure.

I’m spinning on the bar stool, nauseous,
looking around.

Two wine glasses dreaming of eternity;
a couple of tequila shots living carpe diem;
twin beer pints promising never to tell;
and, amid the racket, my tears.

The star’s a pale complexion with vivacious features,
with pronounced charms and grace,
and with a stare,
a stare that could divert Cupid’s arrow
anywhere…

She gets up – supple waist –
And comes my way.
A swarm of pelicans take flight inside of me.
She stands before me.
Venus holds my hand,
opens her mouth…
Nothing comes out and I understand it all.

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