Single Malt Poem by Jose Armando Guzman

Congress was beneath our feet as
we strolled down Fourth Avenue
and headed for a night of excess.

It was an evening of seeing the islands
through neon lights and tasting
the castles as you tried to keep
up with the moonlight.

We watched as the towers would
sway back and forth.
The horizon was filled with stars and
none shined brighter than the
one's in your eyes.

I now remember at least a dozen
letters that were never delivered,
just lost or burned.

Those words are now dusty and
hard to read.
Those days are so far away
and it has been years since
I have felt your blessed presence.

We are a complicated lot.
There is nothing easy as the
planets never quite aligned to
the right moment in time.

You have always been a single malt
in a world of cheap blends.
I have always liked my scotch either
neat or on the rocks.
Everything seems as far away
as Speyside.

It was only life that got in our way.

The years have passed and you
are no longer a protagonist in
my dreams or reality.


I often wonder how
that moment, place,
and time will be.
I wait for that instant when you
will once again stroll
casually
into my life and say hello.
Our orbits are bound to cross
once again.
You assured me through
the pixels and keyboard
conversations.

The evolution of whatever it
was that we had as the comet
lost its luster is beyond
the comprehension of even
the greatest soothsayer.

You are at a moment in your
life that has you blessed and
it is well deserved.
I know your struggle and
hard work.

This dusty town keeps us
worlds apart.

It is an interaction of thoughts and
the catharsis of spirits
that keeps this bond
alive.

I will toast to you with the Speyside.
I will wait for you in Speyside.
Until Forever.
See you there.
The Speyside will wait.