Dan Cuddy

A Poem to Drink on a Dark Night

There is a dirty twilight
around the well-lit place,
where we order scotch on the rocks,
take a note from a coat pocket,
read in almost disbelief
the awful news from home.

We look into the mirror behind the bar,
notice how we have aged,
like a piece of paper often handled,
soiled now, wrinkled.
We look at the still smart blue stripe shirt,
white sports coat, hair hanging
like shredded drapery over the brow.

We always address ourselves in the plural,
because we are always trying to separate ourselves
from the flat image that haunts mirrors.

There are conversations,
quite a few, and the clink of glasses,
nervous tapping near by.
We do not listen for intelligible threads of words,
but take comfort in voices.
At least we are not alone.

Outside the day can not retain shape.
Everything slides
like hosed water into a drain,
but it is light, not water;
it is emotion, not light;
it is fact, not emotion,
four dimensional fact
that slides into the drain.

We let the scotch,
which has been served,
slide down the throat,
burn the brain.
It takes time but a few swigs,
a few minutes, and it does.
Even the well-lit place
becomes murky,
even our body that must
now move more deliberately
just to keep control.

It is good not to be able
to make out faces in the room.
It is good that the meaning of words
loses its grip; sounds shake
like a rattle of dice, a clearing of throat,
a stir of ice, liquid
in the cylinder of solace.

What was it? What was it
that was so wrong today?
Oh, we remember. "Another shot of scotch."
Oh yes, let go again.

The dark cuddles up to the windows.
So cozy the warmth of a dark night
where nothing is recognized,
not even yourself.

One Night

One night
many, many, many, many
years ago,
I was chasing this woman
with tight red slacks,
real tight,
all over town.
Even paid for a cab
and said those famous words
"follow that cab!"
The driver did
all the way to the wharf
where the ship left
out into the moonlit bay.
On deck I leaned over the rail
and saw her on the dock.
My heart threw itself up
like an odd wave splashing
against the side of the boat.
I'm sure my bleeding glistened
in the moonlight.