This Night Is Mine Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

Nothing ever beats
A silent drink beside
An inamorata
Or alone still,
Underneath the camouflaged
Moonlight of paltry.

Sometimes, I hear
The clocks talk to me
A pernicious hiss of
A flustered fate -
Nothing ever beats this:
Holding that drink,
Hands frigid as you
Stare at the other
Patrons, grinning at them
As if treating them
With flagrant disregard
Or abandonment:

The supreme victor
You tell yourself you are
As you take long slugs
And you laugh at the
Distressed patrons
The drunkards of distraught
As their automobiles
Sleep underneath the night
Morose and somber.
Nothing ever beats this
When you drink
The rue
The pang
Out of your heart.

And you look at
Past loves
And dead doves,
Those two, effeminate gloves
Slumbering inside
Do not make you wallow
In oblivion anymore
Pour me another drink
Darling, this night
Is ours.

And a man approached me
And asked:
"What's your secret? "
And I just sit there,
Beside my inamorata
Dashing in her white dress
And stockings
I crane my neck to face
My inamorata
"Excuse me I have to talk
To this man, he is
Seemingly hopeless."
And my inamorata pats my back
And gives me a dank coil

"The secret is
That there's no secret.
Even the gods hold no
Secrets. They only sleep
Inside one of your dreams.
Even love is bare - love
Has no secrets, only deceit
And wonder in between.
Even this silent drink
Enjoys its blankness.
You're a fool for thinking
That there's a secret
Waiting down the line.

You just have to
Say vociferously,
Dear lad..

This night is mine."

He gave me a drink
Or two
And my inamorata
Stood beside me,
And I swore
We were infinite.
All of us.
The night
Is ours.
Nothing ever beats this.