Like Water
I don't drink alone, but I sometimes drink with the dead.
Gin on the rocks, for Gan under the rubble.
Quiksilver - it's Amagon - for Jenna, cool and dry and the taste too easily forgotten.
{Nothing for Blake. Not dead yet. Won't think that yet. I won't.}
The last of the soma and adrenalin - from my own flask - that was for Cally, green and sweet with a fireball at the back of the throat.
And for Zen.
{Still nothing for Blake. Won't think he'd dead yet. I can't.}
Black, cold Xenon moonshine for Avon after Terminal - has body all right, but no soul. None left.
{Not Dorian's wine. Won't drink with Dorian. Dead or not.}
Blake's dead. Blood-red Bloody Marys in an empty bar on Gauda.
I drink with the dead. But who'll drink with me?
-the end-