The Final Beer
This is our time
now
the drunks have all gone to sleep
or passed out
and you can finally relax,
stop playing the good hostess,
set aside all anxiety and fear.
I try to pace myself
put on hold my pursuit of oblivion
so we can share this final beer.
You smoke, talk,
I hope I listen the way you want me to
drunk as I am
your grace and the cadence of your voice
punctuate exquisite silence
what a perfect way to start the new year.
2 comments:
What a fucking lovefest. No wonder so few read our blog.
Love the poem though. Thank you. Here's to at least 30 more years of our infrequent, yet quality, "last beers".
Yeah, I was thinking the same thing.
Odd to call the final beer of a night "the final beer," but I was thinking of Italo Svevo's "The Last Cigarette" from The Confessions of Zeno where the narrator decides to quit smoking but his means is to find some way in which each cigarette he has is the last cigarette.
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