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Revalation
You're lit up magenta,
a neon flame at the bar,
your whiskey reflecting
in unusual shades of gold.
"Meet me at the bottom of the bottle" you say,
and I know what you mean,
how you want me
when we're hazy definitions.
Your whole body is flashing,
like you've found our own language
and you're speaking in colors,
as if this night is the answer.
But I know you're wrong
and every night is the same.
It shines violent and pink
as the lights from the bar imitate dawn.
Every night you're this brilliant firecracker,
shooting out as far as it will take you,
then slamming down so quickly
you fall right through the earth.
Christy Berlowitz
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