Some opaque smoke and melancholy thoughts
layered like the sediment of ancient weathered rock;
hung motionless in the mindless stillness of my mood.
My eyes focused on it like I was seeing a ghost
for the very first time; removing my dark glasses
I lifted a drink to my mouth and sipped the whiskey,
then with a soft gentle and well directed breath
of ninety four point seven proof, I blew it back to hell.
2008 ©TS
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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