bottle of cognac / keeps whispering my name
it would be rude not to answer
had my friend Roberta over
she was overflowing with mad spirit
17 fluid ounces in a 16 ounce bottle
she said my house was as cold and dark
as an old crypt
told her that wasn’t true; my house wasn’t that old
haunting familiar refrain deja vuing in my head
ignore the ghosts dancing around the banquet table
looking out the window at the driving rain
not a word muttered uttered whispered
voices silent muted quieted
just the pain sounds of rain hitting the pane
then later, downtown—
discussing life’s twists and turns over late night coffee
fate, destiny, happenstance
downtown diner mostly empty red booths
waitresses refilling sugar containers
only a few people passing by the windows
getting late, moon yawning
