WHO’S THAT IN YOUR DRINK?
I’m liquid enough
to pour into a glass,
with enough sorrow, enough despondency,
for you to down in one gulp,
with your tongue steering clear
of the regret.
In your gut, I’m just another guy,
our times together
sloshing around with your martini.
Eventually, your body
will lose whatever you swallowed this night,
the alcohol flushed away,
memories along for the ride.
You’ll have cleared the way
for your next drink, your next man.
There’s sure to come a night
when you confuse the two.