Imagine letting this drink slide
through my fingers…
Potential falling dense and heavy
Toward a concrete death,
like lead through the barrel of a gun.
I imagine, in slow motion,
the silence of this
fall…
.
     .  .
          .  .   .     .
and
the gentle clink
as glass kisses stone.

Imagine the bravery of living
in the moment.

To watch the surge of liquid
rising up against gravity,
The velvet glide of ice
across a hot surface,
and the shattering of glass.