good friday

good friday

the cool crimson evening
crawls through the window
reaching for the bottle
between the limes and the salt

shot glasses
leave short shadows
angled away to the right

on the radio
van morrison is overcome
thinking about a brown eyed girl

outside
the ozark sunset
holds back the night

the tequila
tastes
like summer

~ welker ~


Originally published in Scrivener's Pen