Drinking With My Dark Past…. And Loving It!

I gather all my specters
from the deep waters
and sing songs to long gone wisps
of memory that once held me in chains.
We drink deeply of melancholic elixirs,
imbibing of the dear lost ones;
while predicting with drunken certainty
things still to happen.

I have some very rambunctious skeletons.
They have never stayed closeted,
for they love to dance and carouse
and generally make a nuisance of themselves,
in the wee hours,
when the party is winding down.
I am often left picking up forgotten femurs
and various small foot bones in the morning,
while I try to get another wine stain out of the sofa.

When I gather with my shadows of memories past,
we always drink too much.
I imagine it is some vain attempt to forget each other.
“Do I know you?”, one will invariably ask.
“I think so. I never forget a face.”
“Hey you, there! Yes, you –
the handsome devil with the mischievous grin.
Grab me another beer while you’re up!”
It goes on like this for hours.

I guess,
if you’re going to have an overabundance
of black, shady memories,
sketchy recollections
and sordid tales of vile reputation;
they should at least be fun at a party.

HG – 2015