all those nights you lay alone wondering
are the reason you’re here in these.
your rinsed out body
under a sliver of moon,
a nice top, a shower beer,
making it out alive in time
to be here.

this is the joy of time moving,
the reward for trying:
fuzzy orange light, the room
blur, your skin buzzing,
going all honeyed
with every sip.
drinking is bad, but we do it anyway.
working is hard, but we have to.

these are old times changing,
the glass chances they talk about
taking — the swoon and
the sway of that big ship.
feel this. with me, here,

another year,
another wine-d up night
being all cute about it. no emails
or appointments. no exes
or attachments.

just these, just us. just this.