30/6/07

It's bourbon and whiskey
from old oaken barrels,
sitting next to a large
framed man with a
long stemmed pipe.

In, out.
In, out.

The smoke billows
into the air with
the aroma of cherries
and old bathrooms.
The spirits swirl
in the glass as he
slowly sips away.

Up, down.
Up, down.

It's eleven thirty.
Not much time.
Pack it again
then say goodbye.

In, out.
In, out.

The smoke has gone
the way off the buffalo.