Solitary Drunk
Solitary Drunk
The mellow tone of saxophone
seeps through my vodka haze
and sings a sultry melody
of long forgotten days
a spiral plume of Winston fume
rises from the bar
and I remember warm September
breeze and soft guitar
a swaying palm that fed my calm
becomes a slim-hipped lass
I sip my drink and spare a wink
for memories in glass
the murky room reflects my gloom
and whispers ride the air
half-heard jokes from tipsy folks
that came to drown despair
and as last call for alcohol
rings like some funeral bell
I close my eyes and realize
this bar room is my Hell
C. Lon R. Bruso
(2012)
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