Poem by: Rebekah Turney
Bar's full. Hello, To an old friend. Bodies devour vacant Seats from hungry beggars, Like empty stomachs, exuding Long regret and Wishful thinking. A Small Chair scrapes the hard wood Floor from a nearby table and Pulls toward the counter. Silent ease. Bar top stands tall, Blinding. Little specks of stars Waver into its fining. He sits low, the Corners of his mouth curl upward. The Shine against his Face does not dull his gaze. Cold glass Filled to the Brim. It's sweat Drips down on his Eager fingers. Ice bobs, and his hands hold tight. "I may not have had much to Give, but I have a lot to Give tonight."