Bar Song Three

Using your blanket as a thermos,
what a way to keep your blood warm.
Fresh for the picking.
I am DARK today.
It's what I wear well this evening.
I don't claim to love the colour.
Using my glass of water
as a sort of rebirth,
drinking as if I intend to drown myself;
which is likely, the path I am heading down.
Is it possibly for a body to reject perfectly clean water?
It might be.
What you do if I told you today,
that I have the beginnning of what could
eventually being to be
a feeling of love for you? What would you do?
Would you come to me,
rip off my dark?
Would we sit in silence,
and gather it around us
and cook?
Joke's on you,
you have me.


Bar song

Thus was his astonishment to find himself facing not burly Jack behind a counter, but the women in pink, arranging flowers.
Upon the action of snapping his phone closed, she looked up from her yellow and red tulips and smiled.
"Hi there."
George stares, very much still lost.
Silence follows.
"Can I help you sir?"
In a desperate attempt to say something, anything, right now, George opened his mouth and loudly stated,
"You're not Jack."
The young brunette looked at him for a beat, then laughed, a good full laugh of one who enjoys the practise.
This jerked George awake. He gave a lopsided grin, and declared
"I would like to purchase some flowers"
Again the women laughed, which disconcerted George. He saw nothing funny in his statement. Frantically, he scanned the store and grabbed a bouquet at random.
Minutes later, he was on his way home, Jack's Bar forgotten, clutching his prize.
Upon arriving home, handing his wife the flowers, kissing her duitifully on the cheekm abd dropping himself into his chair in his den, he had his first coherent thought.
"She must be 25."