The expansive sea stretches before me into endless eternity. Summer has come and passed and in its wake remains a thin, scaly sheen of oily murk. Death, rebirth, and then death again. Round and round we go and where we emerge again nobody knows.
The blind man turns to me and stares into my soul through merciless cataracts and with cracked, rat-teeth he implores, “ There must be some kind of way out of here…”
I buy him another drink. I buy myself two.
4 comments:
This is the one. There's something about a man buying himself two drinks. I have done that. It's a merciless act - almost like admitting it's the end of the world. I shall pour myself two glasses of red wine this evening in tribute.
i shall join in
I told ya! Out of pain and sorrow comes creativity, Hermes.
Glad you are writing again...
Ruk - a merciless act... but who is the recipient?
Emeralda - cheers honey.
Luis - drunk ramblings behind a leaking dumpster at the piggly wiggly my friend.
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