Vignette of The Past

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Vignette of The Past

I sit at the end of the bar,
A tattered copy of Percy Bysshe Shelley before me,
An ashtray overflowing with Camel Straight cigarette butts,
The fifth double Vodka-Tonic of the night resting upon a stained coaster,
Three shots of Jamison Irish Whiskey in a rocks glass,
I down a swallow of the whiskey, followed by a gulp of Vodka-Tonic,
And finally a slow drag from my cigarette,
Silent pleasures of a life already lived.

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