she said it was a ***** Martini
a filmy liquid poured into clear glass
squeeze bottles of Worcestershire, for ******-Mary,
squirted octopus ink into bleeding crushed ice
millions of dancing limes approve
as Vodkas crash to internal shores

she let us smell its fragrance
in the bottle's bottom depths
we drank her beer in ounces
'till a swirling straw bumped ice
there a vision reared it's carnage
with its alcoholic swage

she hovers by her register as the numbers button down
while the room spins after-hours in this other part of town
music plays within this cavern dim where tunes of rue elute
a she and he, to they were friends, days can end in Absolute
from hearth and work's alarm to roam at power's will
uptown/downtown skid row's tribulations till

absorbed in sorrowful rags, tears of strangers
wiped from countertop gouged by time's knife
slices of stories, jokes and anecdotes suspended
on racks above this bar's mirrored memories
hang on entrance door and exit's green light
arriving early after to leave too late

-cec