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What are you waiting for?
I sat staring at the purple tint to my glass.
Wondering where a series of women from my past were tonight.
Some of my usual suspects.
Some clawing from the very very far back of my mind.
I wondered how my life was by comparison.
Dulcet husky tanins
bursting, dark after aroma
the empty cup of covenant?
Maybe I'm the dregs.
The broken bits of refuse and process.
Just a side effect, a by-product.
Am I the stain against the edge?
But there's grit too.
Trial. Caliber. Tenacity.
What was I to them?
Full-bodied, half-hearted?
Just a hint of danger and a desire for belonging?
Did I fall short, dry, sour?
Why so many
with so little to show?
