Wednesday, November 28, 2001

Drinking

Cold charm radiates from his face
As he escorts me to the liquor cabinet.
'Take your drink, make it strong',
He smiles robustly.

I pour a glass of Whiskey,
My drink of choice, of course,
And look in his direction.
But he is gone, no trace found--
Only a footprint on the carpet
Where I had most recently been standing.

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