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Coffe Table Rings

Drowning myself in
The most uplifting drink
I know how to mix.
An abominable concoction
That would send a chilling
Shiver down a grown-man’s spine.

One part Milwaukee’s worst-
The best simply doesn’t have the same effect.
Throw in a touch of some low balled spirits-
Typically I use whatever I find lying around.
Shake until finished-

Trust me; it’s obvious when it’s complete, it doesn’t take long.
And your drink is all done-

Just don’t save any for the morning.

Not every drink tastes the same,
But I guarantee it will leave
The same bitter after-taste.
It never goes down smooth,
But it gives the same satisfaction
Nonetheless. I enjoy this drink
Surrounded by dimly-lit faces,
But alone in my hazed thoughts.

You however –
With your strawberry blonde curls
Bouncing with every breath,
Flawless complexion without the mask
Of concealer, and baby blue eyes
Capable of penetrating my cloud
With no more than a glance –
You enjoy a drink
That has much less of a bite.
Not to mention a taste that will linger
With a bit of sweetness.
As if you can’t already tell
By my sunken in expression
And curling of my upper lip
After every shallow sip,
It’s a drink I just can’t conjure up.



You ask anyway, in a voice
That echoes with a subtle interest
I’m not quite used to hearing.
I do my best, but you still want
Something different.

Mixed drinks further cloud
My mixed emotions.
I desperately want to serve
You something that won’t end
In the usual disappointment.

After all the failed attempts
Of trying to muster up the perfect livation
All you wanted was a taste of mine
Made a little differently –
Mixed with Milwaukee’s best,
But with the same low end spirits.
I think I could learn to fall
For the new recipe,
All thanks to you.

Let’s escape this run-down bar
And make a dash for my vacant
Apartment. We should hurry
Before the fog is lifted.
I have only one rule –
Use a coaster on the coffee table –
Any remnants
Of rings
Stains the presentation.

When nothing is left to swallow
We take one last look
Into each other’s
Empty glasses;
Even you know there can’t be
Anything left in the morning.





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