Linger

The glass is too cold in your grasp.
The bartender asks about your day.
It started much like any other day.
You aren’t sure what day it is.
What month it is.
You stopped remembering things like that.
You’re too old to be wasting your thoughts.
It’s hard enough to remember what she looked like.
You lie to the bartender and tell him it’s a good day.
He asks what your plans are for the weekend.
You know where you’ll be.
Forty-two Marlborough street.
You tell him you’re visiting someone.
He smiles and tells you to bring them along to the bar.
You say you will.
You finish your whiskey quickly.
Eighties trance music fills the room.
You know this song well.
The bartender says he can change the music if you don’t like it.
You tell him to turn it up.
The song transports you back to your old place.
In your yellowing kitchen.
You grab her and dance.
You tell her you love her and you mean it.
The bartender asks if you’d like another drink.
You say you’ll have two more.
You ask the bartender if he’s in love with anyone.
The bartender shakes his head.
You tell him he’s very lucky.
You finish your drink and begin to leave.
The bartender calls out that you haven’t touched your last drink.
You tell him that it isn’t yours.

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