It’s 5 O’Clock

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." 

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