Gestalt 2 Bryon Dudley 'Tonic'

The gloomy, drizzling night-time sky

Clouded my soul, my brow, my mood, and

So it was, with daunted optimism,

That we found ourselves once more on bar stools,

With keen ears ever stretching their awareness for jokes,

Or stories, or random bits of laughter,

To ache the belly and smear a smile as time did its thing.

Someone put horrible music on the jukebox, and we grumbled.

Someone dropped a glass and we cheered.

Someone spoke of injustice, and we chased our tails in anger,

Plotting murder, stomping, fuming, wanting to break things, wanting to

Set Things Right, so that, just this once,

The world would make sense again,

And everything would be fair,

And the clouds would part, and the gloom would pass,

And then we could all, at last, finally, be happy.

Bleary-eyed and oscillating, we smiled and tipped

The patient, angelic bartender,

(washing glasses, combining fluids),

And triumphantly marched back out into the rain.