Overflowing

In a beer and burger joint

where we once sat

and ate transfixed

I recall our conversation

but you escape my need

to realise your face.

I make it worse with beer

and shots of vodka

with a few functioning brain cells

clinging to memories of photographs

to place you

in a holiday mnemonic

and it works except

your image wavers

the scene is blurred

and now I know for sure

it’s time to go home

as in, ‘wherever you are’

as Billie Holiday sings

Good Morning Heartache

wringing the world out

over my face

you are days, weeks,

months, years away

I order 2 double vodkas

no tonic

my cup is

overflowing.

.

.

.

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