Rebound

Rebound, atop a stool at the same bar.
Cigarette dangles from my lip, it's brethren
nestled safe, beside my drink, where shakes
my hand, anxious to seize another.

Ash drops to the sticky bar before I pass
tip of cherry from forebear to fresh ember.
Puff, puff.  Puff, puff.  The cherry grows to life,
reborn, as passed snuffed in ashes.

The barman's quick arm dips below my vision.
He whisks away my ashtray where only five
butts rest.  He spins down a clean damp one,
tinkly clack!  If only I could fill an ashtray!

Black Russian.  Yes another.  Here, a tip.
I gulp the last of my drink, savor small ice .
Alcohol strips the tar from my throat.
I drag some more from the smoke .  Throat still feels sore.

A new drink arrives.  The empty disappears.
Smoke aside, I cup my drink with both hands
staring straight across to rows of booze. 
Behind me is everyone I never knew.

I've never felt lonely surrounded by people.
I've never sat at the bar, always a booth, with you.
My heart has been withdrawn and is spent to waste.
Pain?  None.  How can I feel, when I've lost my senses.

-dp-
3-14-83 / 3-28-13