Am I Not Drinking?

Good god, who knew that abstaining from something was such a business? Not that I'm falling down on the job, just that this activity of not doing something involves a lot more than forgetting about it. That creature of the night, so easy to come back in moments of desperation, if anything to break the damn monotony of time, which seems to stifle while it mocks with its subtle speed, flowing away fast as traffic down the thruway. So damn constant and determined, so much faster than before.

Yeah, I'm making small talk with you, fellow non-bar patron, finding a piece of mind at the end of a long day, or long night. Whatever, it is doesn't matter, because we're sitting here after an experience, no(?), an experience that found us both flailing in the tumult of the ineffable.

Give me one of whatever he's having. What are you having, anyway? Yeah, hot cocoa, okay, me too. Do I want whip cream? Sure hope it isn't alcoholic whip cream. You never heard a'that? Let me tell you, if I had a little kid and named him whip cream. Well, let's not start anthropormorphizing everything, let's just keep a distance, some pace, you know, with the fault lines of this thing.

But we're through now, figuring it, angling our hands in a line with some invisible platonic ideal, always content enough to get some purchase, even when we get ripped off. Who wouldn't, after that night/day? It sure was a feat, wasn't it? Sure was something, there, on the rocks, no longer anything though, barely enough moisture to say that it might dry up in the sun. No need to or call in the cops with their kitty litter, their sand, to mop up after our accident. Look at it out there? Yeah, if only everyone saw it like we see it now, well, shucks. Better get a move on, before those thoughts come back in.