The Voices in The Refrigerator, poetry by George Gad Economou at
Jose Pablo Garcia

The Voices in The Refrigerator

The Voices in The Refrigerator

written by: George Gad Economou


I always keep at least three bottles of white wine
in the refrigerator, even when I spend days drinking
whiskey and gin; the wine’s there to remind me that,
even during the darkest hangovers, going through life
dry is not worth it. a dry decade cannot compare to a night of intoxication.

the wine talks, even while I swig down tall gin and tonics,
wants me to get a taste; the gin’s strong, the tonic fuzzy,

but wine’s the fuel of gods. gin brings forth distant memories
of long-forgotten nights in other dives. bourbon’s about
the future, the honkytonks of five years from now, the fallen
angels that shall share a motel bed.

wine’s the fuel of masterpieces, of grandiose moments
under scalding purple suns; wine was in the blood
of Socrates, of Timocreon, and of playwrights that
shaped the world. wine’s the reminder that
a drunken hour contains more life than a dry lifetime.

I drain my gin and tonic and crack the first bottle; cheap white
drugstore wine, somewhat stale, bit acrylic; still supernal
and within my bloodstream flow the words
of antiquity, next to me sit spirits two millennia old.

bourbon might be the wine of the soul, but wine contains
the soul of the gods.

Latest posts by George Gad Economou (see all)