The Ritz

by Tim G. Young

After oh so many hours
the eyes could only close
only to view a Ritz cracker
marching on a nose

The cracker was full of fire
it flashed its flames so hgh
the crumbs fell on the carpet
its olives burned the sky

A murky old solution
filled the party glass
and only offered confusion
as to how much time had passed

the hours long as seconds
the days as short as years
the months so hard to remember
the minutes turned to tears

yet there is no temptation
sneaking as they do 
to caress another moment
with that Ritz cracker still in view

For in this cocktail heaven
where swizzle sticks parade
the band plays hallelujah
while mixers strip and play

Then the shakers end up dancing
skating on thin ice
pouring dreams in to tomorrow
throwing loaded dice

The odds of a fortune dangle
like wind chimes in the wind
and live like Ritz crackers crumbling
into the tonic and the gin