Drunken Silence: #2 Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

Drunken Silence: #2



She sat there
With such short notice
In front of me
And I thought
Of all the bars that I have
Been in,
All the drunken nights,
Slurring,
Dying in back alleys
Like a cat

All the starlight that
Passed me in such
A slick demise
”What are you doing here
All alone in a bar? ”
And the elbow room
Convoluted, the people,
The haze, the lights
Were erratic.

I told her
In such an explosive retaliation,
”I should ask you,
What are you doing here
All sprightly
And wan?
There’s death here
And you’re too carefree
To notice.”
She grimaced
With this frank encumbrance
And then
Transposed a smile
And said,
”Hi, I’m Georgia.”
I shook her hand,
My soul, restive.
I’ve never had
Many handshakes
With people

I hold pavements,
The streets,
The cold façade of establishments
As I puke my guts
Out of total drunkenness:
Drunk with alcohol,
More drunk with vitriol,
Superlatively drunk
With loneliness.

”Hello.”
I never told her my name.
It’s when you tell
Them everything
That they start
To miss out on you.

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