Tuesday, December 23, 2003
The Dark Richmond Pub
by Christopher J. Bradley
(c)2003

Reminiscent of a place,
that you could only dream to be near,
As a punk of the seventies,
I lean over the wooden brass railed bar,

My gut hanging out like a giant meatloaf,
I drink a swig of two dollar beer,
And think of times,
That date back to my perfect day,

A day irrepressible,
Because it brought me these words,
She was perfect,
And yet somehow with every lucid thought,
I make her a shame to me,
A holy loss that can never be replaced.

If I meet her again,
With the lady who lives for Christmas,
I will know I am never lost,
Or am I just opening,

A new leaf of mercury.

# posted by Christopher @ 5:53 AM