He hurriedly glanced at his wristwatch again,
The shadow of the cross from the steeple
Landing in the middle of the watch.
A sigh echoed through the church courtyard,
And a few rats scurried out of their hide-aways.
They should be here by now.
The moon hung in the sky,
Trying and failing to shed light on what was below.
The harsh noise of a truck on gravel reached his ears,
And he breathed a sigh of relief.
The newcomer parked the truck and lumbered out,
Holding several filthy beer bottles in his large, grimy hands.
“Here you go.”
His voice was gruff, calloused even, as if it was being
Grated like cheese.
Money from the priest’s hands went into the driver’s hands,
And when the priest looked into his eyes,
They spoke legends of ******.
The truck drove away, and
Pretty soon the courtyard was silent again,
Except for the hoot of an owl,
The contented sigh of the priest, and the
Pop of a beer bottle being opened.

I walked alone that night,
Uphill through the snow.
And when I arrived at the place
Not a single face did I recognize.
I got a beer and sat around,
Looking down so it wouldn't seem
Like I was staring.
The ice in my frozen nerves
Became blacker than the roads
Outside that I drove here on.
And this is why I wish I
Was truly dangerous. No one
Would ignore me, yet nobody
Would venture too close. I'd
Be an animal in a zoo.
But instead I'm a scared,
Lost puppy stuck in a
Land of lions and snakes.
But I poker-faced it so when you
Finally arrived, the little
Loud part of me crying for a
Place and body and mind
I could love instead of
Loathe withered away. Or
So I thought. I ought
To know better by now.
All it took was another
Chance not taken, and
I lost all the chips again.


-
by Aleksander Mielnikow

im halfway between wanting to die
and wanting to drink more beer

which is the worse to fear?

something that will leave you dry
or something that will make you fly

Crowds gathered and the noise of disobedience shook the neighbourhood whole. I was in the southern part of the city, where sinners sinned and the practitioners groomed the bars and off licenses solely to quench their thirst for liquor. It was almost midnight and hordes of young and old alike chanted and sung merry making song that rang through city; and what a noise it was. And it was on this night I met a lad who dressed as if the night belonged to him. A tall, slender fellow who hadn’t a care in the world. His Caribbean afro would bob up and down as we giggled to anecdotal stories of the past. We were rebels of the night, breaking away from the fragile unity that was the friendship circle.

A few stragglers in the form of Chavs had joined. Many of them formed bonds with the pretty girls, rivalling us out in the end. Deciding momentarily on what our next plan was, we split away from the group and continued midnight drinking into the Holy Lands. We could hear the barking of neighbourhood dogs tangle with the distant explosions of fireworks in the sky. It was beautifully chaotic. But as midnight sinners it was like music to our ears.

“I’m off mate, take care of yourself.” The fellow said as he guzzled his last remainder of his bottled Budweiser.

“You heading home, aye?” I smirked, clearly egging him on to stay out just a tad longer. But, this was to be it. With a hug and a good luck, he was off, towards the mystic backstreets and towards the Ormeau Road. I never caught the young lad’s name, nor did I ever catch his age. It was a strange meeting between the two of us. As if, for one singular night we knew everything about each other yet knew nothing at all. I recall sitting back down on the sidewalk and smiling, before looking up towards the decorative sparkly night sky. And, what turned out to be a spontaneous and random night ended up as a completed final chapter, to a superb little story.

When he was my age,
my father was already a dad.
At twenty-five I still drink as much *****
He told me: “you are making your mother sad”

My colleagues all have lovers
I am married to an imaginary dog
That cute bartender was flirting with me
So I could start a relationship with beer

I don’t know what annoys more my roommates
My clumsiness or my messiness
I blamed my fictional pet
That animal should try to stay sober

My friends stop talking to me
Once they started dating
I should try to figure out my problems
But not today, it’s Friday

cups of
earl gray,
cans on cans
on cans of
lukewarm beer;

to the squeals
of my guitar,
I sustain

a broken back/
a liquid diet.