I've missed my bus, and at 12am I sit with Jim Beam at the bar, having worked a chaotic disaster of a shift. I've got a co-worker on hand, a relatively new fellow. The distance between our lives is vast but he is gregarious and chatty. We toast and watch richer men drink better bourbon.
It's a late night bus home, 1:30am. I've got holy Gregory's poems in hand. I remember somewhere he lists sins worse than raucous drinking.
I realize that I am not so lonely with decent men around me.
No comments:
Post a Comment