Down Here I Drink Alone
by Tyler Berg
Deep in the silent vacuum of space a satellite circles us.
Down here I drink alone, my friends long ago sailed for sleep's soft shores.
Down the road a greasy fryer gurgles to life at a fast food joint.
In Bluff City my grandmother drinks her third cup of Folgers.
In Africa something innocent dies in the soul of child.
In D.C. lobbyists play poker with working men's wages.
Somewhere a factory worker is maimed by the machine that puts food on his table.
Somewhere a wiry mutt pokes along a country road, insides ablaze with hunger.
Somewhere in someplace something occurs.
The tapestry of time gets another stitch.
The countdown clock rolls forward.
The whole crazy picture gets a little bit clearer.
But down here I drink alone.
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Author's Note
Submitted via mobile device during an early morning drunk.
Other stories by Tyler Berg
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This is probably the most unique take I've read in a while.*
Thank you kindly, your input means a great deal.
I especially like the opening figure and the circularity of the close.
I like this a lot and especially the ending. *
I like this a lot too. The rhythm plugs forward with the imagery and you knew when to quit.
The world in a nutshell. Very nice. Although I hear one shouldn't always drink alone.