Reminiscence

My infatuation 
Is a dimly lit 
Faded 
Blurred bar shelf 
Stocked 
With beautiful bottles of 
Liquors. 
The colours and fonts on the labels 
Drip so easily into my eyes 
As I lean carefully 
Over the counter 
Like a thousand times before. 
Chrome taps of cold carbonated relief 
Are stationed like IV bags 
Filling frothy glasses into the early morning. 
Surrounded by tight t shirts 
And fresh jeans, 
My watch catching the neon glare, 
Elbows sticking to the counter, 
As my always dry throat 
Welcomes a friendly pour. 
Each sip slides down smoother, 
And as I die I feel alive. 
For tonight.

Pint Glass