Last night the moon
in the sky hung
like a glowing fraction
and a stranger asked me if I believed in fate.
Paul Guest from “Poem for Tucker Carson’s Face,” Southern Indiana Review (Fall 2020)
in the sky hung
like a glowing fraction
and a stranger asked me if I believed in fate.
Paul Guest from “Poem for Tucker Carson’s Face,” Southern Indiana Review (Fall 2020)
Forwarded from alcoholic.exe
A guy goes into a bar and orders three separate shot glasses of Irish whiskey. He drinks all three. He does day after day after day, and the bartender finally says, "You know, I can put all three of those shots into one glass for you." The guy says, "No, I prefer it this way. I have two brothers over in Ireland, and I love them. This glass right here is for Finnian and this one here is for Fergus, and this one is for me. This way I can feel like we here together having a drink."