Member Poem

On the eve of independence day,
that old rag tune jangles the 4^th of July
Bellies lacquered in liquor and Bud
America and highways and sun bathing
girls in bikinis

A cat skitters across a floor.
A shadow falls in a puddle about a body in slow motion.
A candle unlit begs for the kiss of a hot little flame.
A floor creaks and a fan whirls lazy by the ceiling.

We sprawl on too soft couches.
Shots of alcohol brim in the shaking blue iris of the future.
My throat puckers at the thought.
We drift out into the night as moths
hankering for a beacon.
The watering hole glimmers in the
windows of an old mansion,
white and proper on a corner
of square-cut prim lawn.

Inside bartenders, bedraggled and staring
frenzied, the scent of cash and
booze on their fingertips, trying to tame the
mass of sweating drunks jostled before
the bar waving dollar bills and desperation
for one more sip to wash down the
pointlessness
of it all. Just, please, a lick
of poison to burn a hole through:
All of those days I don’t want to remember,
All of those people I can’t bear to forget.