Because I Just Can’t Make Another Bottle of Iichiko Magically Materialize in the Back of the Fridge

stars in the trees2
By Eric Lawson

My powers of preparation have seriously diminished
There was a time when a bottle (or five) of alcohol
held a place of honor in the fridge and/or cabinet(s)
No longer
I seem to be moving away
from easy answers and affordable vices
On this day, of all commercialized holidays,
I think about what love is supposed to be
But then I stop and reflect,
though never in a nearby mirror,
on what is real vs. far-fetched-fantasy

My powers of internalization have grown stronger
There was a time when I would tell anyone anything
and not worry about secrets escaping from my grasp
No longer
I seem to be moving away
from the ideas of community and safety
On this day, of all crystallized romantic failures,
I focus on what-makes-you-stronger-bullshit
But then I stop and regroup,
though never in an old duffel bag,
and formulate a new working strategy

My powers of filtering out false pretenses lapsed
There was a time when everything made sense
and I didn’t need to let anyone into the heart hotel
No longer
I seem to be moving away
from stone-cold independence on the fringes
On this day, of all days to be orbiting love,
I quell my boredom with an inner monologue
But then I stop and whimper,
though never in a soap opera way,
because you left with the last bottle of Iichiko

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