I am the liquor store down a forgotten street                                
          that closed long ago,
the "NO-ADMITTANCE " sign still staring out at you
         through blank, dull windows.

                        I've been vandalized.
         My floor stripped bare, shelves broken, bottles strewn about,
    though I've come to quite like
the new graffiti of my soul.

                  All of this done at the hands of drunkards,
                                those who kissed my lips as they stripped me bare.    

               And now here we are, all forgotten.
                                   Perhaps I can only blame myself.

You remark how freely time drains down the bottle.
I wonder if you are out there now,
         measuring your life in beer cans.
If so, I'm jealous. Not of you,
          But of the beer cans.

Have you ever been as drunk from my kiss
     as I am of yours?
                    I hope so. I hope I am not the only one.

Does the sky open up for you when you look into it?
      Have you gazed upon infinity?
                If you have, let me look into your eyes.

      Briefly.

So I can fall into the Dark Forever of your windows.
    So these walls marked by unkind hands
        might know themselves again.