Once entering the Heartland Cafe for a Wednesday night open mic

I realized I was early and hence pulled up a seat to the bar

Here I noticed an enchanting special which hired images of the Moulin Rouge

It was a drink I had yet to try through all of my alcoholic to do’s

Green with envy is not my script while I wait for Jack Calhoun

But I’m open to trying this tasty new thing and order a glass then two

The barkeep says “Do you want it served traditional or burnt with fire like heroin and crack?”

Then he makes a comment about Hemingway it being his favorite snack

Even though I go with “tradition” at first it’s time to break the rhyme

As we all know, not everything goes, in smooth ways all of the… nights

It’s sweet, like liquorice, leaving a warm longing stretch down my throat

It’s as if this tasty beverage became my highly welcome brand new winter coat

Making it through stand-ups, poetry slams and music bit by bit

I have my second glass, which is half-off and return to my table

Solemnly annoyed by the overly affectionate displays of the man and woman sitting in front

Back to my drink, then watching Jack’s set, I see how life’s been for such men

And ladies, down in front, may have been through our worst

Nonetheless through good jest and lickingly good drinks, it’s easy to lift those cursed

That is, at least for fleeting moments into seemingly endless smiles

We move through curves and turns of time, aligned, as if we are guided

through grim and grinny realities and dreams of the absinthe minded

Cheers