Moonlit Memories  

The sun dips low giving way to night's moon
The clash of pint glasses welcomes me to yet another evening
Set down with myself and a bottle I shuffle through old memories
As the nights drunk starts to entice me, I close my eyes
And welcome moonlit visage from a memory of you.  

Trembling hands pour yet another drink as I try to wash you away
Memory stained wet circles surround me as I, in my attempt,
Look forward into futures past and once again I find you
In all heartwarmed innocence steeping forward into my life with arms outstreched
As you grab me and jerk me back into blurry tearstained memories  

The bartender looks at me sobbing old cliches into a half empty glass
And Old Friend, some three hours late, arrives to see me in alcohol's
Warm embrace, holding pictures in my mind as it reels from yet
Another frosted glass pint that pours down my throat just as
Tears did my face that Thursday evening now alive in my memory

Old Friend offers her hand then gives me a hug and, in a gesture
That true friends are made of, pours me another dose of alcoholic
Memory revival and waits paitently as I blindly reach out for
My ice cold glass of salvation that will, in my tear soaked
Mind, stop this neverending streak of lies that I call memory

Alas it does not work as I once again find myself
In a hormonal rush driving untold miles like a junkie toward
His fix of warmth and promises that will, in the end, prove
To be his ultimate downfall as I follow that road
So misleadingly labeled "Love" but should be called "Heartbroken memories"

The night ends not with a figure on his knees praying to a
Porcelin god as he once again bows his head in reverence
and spits out bad memories, but as I and Old Freind go
Back to her home with promises of warmth, I slip into
Blessed unconciousness that in feined innocence holds no memory.

 
Colin Fisk
October 1987

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