BarFly

Buildings stretch
upward into the night
lit windows like
unblinking eyes waiting
for a promise to be kept.

A smattering of music
pulls me to familiar haunts
and from the mouths of the
desperate spills laughter

brittle and forced
one last coupling
before their bit of
blue sky is lost.

"The gods favor drunks"
hangs above the bar
a bright talisman smudged
with the finger tips of
the superstitious.

I run my hands over
the dark wood tracing
the whittled messages
of souls slipped between

the cracks and in the
hazy glow of my first
drink I scratch out
a pledge

Tomorrow will be different