My friend was not much of a drinker
glasses filled to brim always wait for the lips
as I sat in front of him
the 18 years scotch must have felt offended
“Don’t drink if you don’t feel like” I said
I poured him a philosophical Sufi story
He drank it with passion and gave me a smile
He asked more
I changed the brand
Gave him some Buddhism instead of Sufism
A zen story that I had always loved savoring
He drank and sat closed eye in meditation
He opened his eyes and asked
Do you have anything light and spicy to go with this
I gave him a few Haiku
He slowly nibbled on them one by one
As I watched him I could see him smiling
He also appeared shocked at some time
Sometimes he looked as if he was
falling down his own abyss
I had to bring him back before I lose him
I opened the bottle of Rubaiyat in front of him
When you have too much spice in life
You need something to quench your thirst
He did not touch the Rubaiyat
“Tell me your story” he said
I leaned closer and told him
My story
He wept at the end of it…
Picked the scotch in his hand and drank in one gulp
“Today for you, for your sad story; I drink
I drink for you my friend” he closed his eyes again
Categories: National Poetry Month, Poetry
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