FINISHING THE SAKE

The taste in my throat;
A celebration.
Making the train—
after running 4 blocks,
in the dark rain;
Looking for the neon
that refused to glow.
The last one out;
We got on and sat down
in the back—
with that bloody trickle
coming down the rear
of my mouth.
Sushi was a good idea;
Hers.
She sat next to me,
reading the writers—
better than me, but dead.
I, at least, was still alive—
in her eyes.
And that was good enough
back then,
for a cheap hotel room bed
or just a train whistle blowing,
alone with her;
While the other passengers
slept off another rainy day
hangover.