Draining the dragon of memory kegs Saturday
Night swallowed Sunday and Monday til midweek
Til the golden bowl swirl yellowy bright brought back
His thought to something other he should have been at
Doing something to someone other or with he wasn't yet
Quite sure but definitely in some other more mundane
Existence he shared. What was it - billiards bright
Hard balls clicking and rolling, miniature bowling,
And he had conquered dollars, women had surrounded
Him, sallies of comrades slapped at his back. Then
It was fucking midweek and the angle to his pocket
Was more direct, more eightball behind which he sat,
Ruby red eyes focused on the golden swirl in the bowl
(Pissing his life away). Sure, but life's like that--
You begin something you can't quite quit
Until the last or you forfeit the table.
An embarrassing strain on a soul, y'know.

John Horváth Jr.

If you've any comments on his poem, John Horváth would be pleased to hear from you.