THE RED

the red
whenever I could tear myself
away from the bars
from the streets
and all their glories
it was nice to sit at home
tipping a bottle of the red
revising a story
scratching the hair on my face
you know your time will come
so you just have to sit and wait
and do your thing
like it was the only reason
you were brought
bloody and naked
into this fallen world
it was nice to do my thing at home
because my girl had quit working
at the olds bars
where I could drink for free
all night long
sometimes I sit and wonder
how much I’ve drank for free
at all the bars around this town
from the many bartenders
I’ve befriended
over the years
certainly many thousands of dollars
but then I get to thinking
how much I have spent
how many more thousands of dollars
and I tip my bottle
congratulate myself
on another successful night in
instead of out
not that I regret a single round of drinks
they all had their place
even that round of ten Jaeger bombs
on my birthday
that was a hundred bucks
that disappeared in fifteen seconds
but I got something from it
a memory
all those glasses
twenty of them
lined up on the bar and ready to go
like watching the roulette ball
bouncing around and around
on the wheel of fate
but money comes and goes
like liquor in a glass
sometimes it’s full and spilling out
other times its empty
waiting for that magical hand of destiny
the hand of the bartender
the hand of some great chuckling god
to fill it back up again
I feel at peace right now
a man on vacation
it’s a good feeling
great, even
and I’m sure it’ll stay with me
at least until the end of this bottle