empty beer bottles

Empty beer bottles line the windowsill,
collecting dust down through their necks
to mix in with the last few drops of alcohol
not consumed,
nor rinsed out and down the sink.

Lined up in a row
they tell a story of the evenings past
filling our stomachs with barley and malt
until they reached our minds
and made us feel better.

Some are yours, some are mine,
but we drank them together
talking, smiling and laughing,
liking each other.
For me, at least.

How many beers will it take
for us to tell each other
how we really feel?

of daydreaming

People say all the right things,
make the opportune gestures,
and be everything we want them to be,
ourselves included.
Perfection is attainable,
if we can meet the right person
where everything will fall into place.

That’s the trouble,
and addicting allure,
of daydreaming.

out of the current

When I wrote about you
I hardly had to think at all.
Words appeared on the paper
as if from nowhere,
or a power higher and stronger than myself.

Flowing like a river downstream
I had no choice but to follow it,
with words to describe you, us,
in hundreds of ways
sweeping me with the current.

I am out of the current now.
There may be peace in calm, cool water
but also discomfort.
I wish not to write of you any longer,
but I cannot find words for anything else.