A Bottle in Front of Me
There I was, sitting at the bar, just minding
my own business, my own bag of troubles
and tribulations, trying to find
my way, same as everybody there rubbing
elbows in such a hushed, purposeful place.
I noticed this guy in the corner, looking
furtive, afraid. Something in his face
seemed too familiar to bear, and it took
all I had not to turn away. He grinned,
then plunged his hands deeply into his ears,
and his eyeballs rolled back white while his fingers
worked with vigor, kneading as the tears
rolled down his cheeks. It was then that I noticed
a smile. He drew his hands from his head
and wiped the slime off on his pants and coat.
“No more bad memories” was all he said.
© Michael Fleming
Marlboro, Vermont
October 2021
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