May 25, 2013

Happy Hour

I wish I had
paid attention 
when I last saw you
in a dream,
pressing into me,
whispering as if 
we were still together,
the years having not yet
stolen our youth,
urging me to listen,
saying someday I would
be sitting at the bar alone,
just an old juke box 
playing the same old tune,
our booth empty
and cracked with age,
no one rushing
to take your place,
unable, really,
to even 
your face.