You Used To Drink

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Contributor: Kevin Richard White

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she asks for a drink
and the man says yes.
she wishes there was no ceiling
so she could see the stars
that frame and edge
such a beautiful broken night.

and in this
she asks for
to bring her to a better something
to bring her to a better enough
so she does not have to go to extremes.

she asks the bartender
for some kind of sign.
he says he's only here to serve drinks.
she looks back into herself,
hears the music,
sees the nothing.

(you used to drink with her
and now you no longer do.
you used to watch that sky
and you didn't know why,
you just saw it
as a something.)

she saw it as an anything.
a perfect way to avoid her problems.

she finishes the glass.
it's on the house, the bartender says.
she chuckles.
that's the way my luck goes,
she says,
on such a beautiful broken night.

she gets into her car
looks for the nothinganythingnothing
and winds up
as a drop of paint
on some tell-all
that God is in the midst of finishing.

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Kevin is previously the author of Handprint on the Windshield, a poetry collection, and Steep Drop, a novel. A second novel, The Face Of A Monster, is forthcoming from No Frills Buffalo Publishing. He lives in Pennsylvania.


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