Dancing Like My Mother

It's like this: You're half awake at 2am listening to the radio on the computer, and a man outside just below your window is singing sad sad alcohol driven and tempered songs. It's cool, slight winds, windlettes ease in through the cracked window, your eyes flutter and dim, his voice pushes higher and louder till it breaks, then there's silence, then theres sobs. You stare dumbly at the rocks glass full of dark thick whiskey, you look at your idle and heavy hands resting on the card table that is your kitchen table. You can not move. not yet. not now.

Posted by Johnny on Monday, September 21, 2009 at 1:25 PM | Permalink