Jan G. Otterstrom F.

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A poem that begins in a dive
bar, tavern, settles at the bottom
of a large shot glass, slowly diluted
by melting ice, sweet songs of love
passing out, sound of laughing
voices fade, departed from
a coffin top, grave´s edge caving in
diction chastened at an earlier hour
all poured before leaving
from a dizzy saloon door.

c) Jan G. Otterstrom F. December 7, 2013