The Jameson bottle glistened whole
in its perch.
“Bloody bottle” he said
“Tiger bloody Woods” I responded
We laughed till we were out of breath
arses stuck to the tailgate
not wanting to break what the aspen had connected.
Hungrily we had shoved its emerald throat full of the truths and lies
of dreams chased
and loves lost.
stubbing shut the moment in the snow
silently securing our dark places
the man spaces.
by Dr John A. King