Islands of Isolation
written by: George Gad Economou
occupied tables, soulless vessels nipping a single drink
during the whole night; laughs, talks, flirting gazes…down in the corner,
surrounded by an archipelagos of isolation, I down shots and highballs
till I’m petrified and gain the ability to swim with the lurking sharks
encircling every wooden table. down by the river love flourished
and up in some penthouse it died. the tequila smooth and strong,
goes straight to the broken liver. in some honkytonk Hank still plays
and in fancy nightclubs high heels break. down in the shooting gallery
a needle is heated; in skid row, rotgut and fortified wine are drained by
dead poets.
horror images and the tenth shot does not contain the needful answers.
shifting to bourbon, ready for another felonious night; Four Roses,
Christine’s kisses hide inside the bottle. reach the bottom,
find her green eyes.
chasing rotgut with gin, and gin with rotgut.
in gin, Emily lives. combining the two great loves, the two momentous
periods of a life long dead buried cremated,
down by the bar as I wander deeper into the sweet mist,
perhaps tomorrow I’ll wake up a murderer, a genocidal dictator,
or in love and employed.
if I’m lucky, I won’t wake up.
lady luck has never been on my side, so, I’ll still be here
pestering you with new poems and new tales and new drunken outbursts.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:
The poem is part of an upcoming collection, “Smoking Rotgut, Drinking Junk,” to be published in the future by Anxiety Press.
- Islands of Isolation - November 22, 2024
- Sometimes, The Bars Get Too Crowded - July 6, 2023
- By The Beach - April 6, 2022
