Liquor-lined walls
glitter in the dim.
Vodka, whiskey, gin-
shimmering, beckoning
the thirsty drunk like
singing sirens.
Odysseus’s men
used wax plugs
to drown out
honey sound,
but these suit and tie-clad
businessmen
sail proud
into a crowd
of sirens
capped and corked-
glowing amber,
ruby, orange-
eager to pacify
the hands,
the mind,
the heart.
And who
can blame
this motley crew?
When the high seas
with their
salted breeze,
jewel-bright blues,
and thrilling crests
will forever be
pure fantasy,
penned and bound
to read
beneath
draining
fluorescents.
So, raise a glass
and clutch your chest,
then drown out
every sorrow.
For so unlike
the daring man,
we’re nearly
guaranteed
tomorrow.
pm poetry 