me, jordan, marianne: again, at the table
staring at neon lights, at the translucent glow of the bottle
when echoes are company and friends long gone.
me: writing, jordan: drinking, marianne: texting
of thinking the deepest thoughts when thoughts are nothing
of remembering what was once treasured, we toast our beer to that.
we three: sit, stare, elbows on the table, chins cupped in our hands
like the day mankind was made and thought all could stand
now, only our wishful thinking is kept and our own selves left.
staring at neon lights, at the translucent glow of the bottle
when echoes are company and friends long gone.
me: writing, jordan: drinking, marianne: texting
of thinking the deepest thoughts when thoughts are nothing
of remembering what was once treasured, we toast our beer to that.
we three: sit, stare, elbows on the table, chins cupped in our hands
like the day mankind was made and thought all could stand
now, only our wishful thinking is kept and our own selves left.
- this is a renga we wrote during one of those drunken nights of Silliman's Founders Celebration. Since we were the only ones at that time who understood that there was something beyond the momentary bliss that was found in a glass, we succumbed to each other's words of misery.
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