In the end there was no ending


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The party ending

they would not leave

their half full glasses topped

with ice and

old scotch not

old enough to drink itself

but old enough to

go to war and die

to vote

to pour itself an apartment

music pouring from the stereo

around us

in us

in the scotch

like Martin or Sinatra

voices spinning a tale of

bourbon and ice

as the night

poured into the room

the party over

they were still there

but the scotch was gone

the whiskey empty

the last cigarette

slowly fading

its tendril of smoke reaching for the ceiling

but falling short

the ashtray full

the clock empty

and still they would not leave…

 

.doc

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