I arrived at the scene
carrying my weight
in Russian vodka
in case of a storm.
The ominous sky
threatened to close
the deal
when you showed up swinging
after a day of hard labor.
You took the flask
and pounded what was left
threw the empty toward the clouds
and drew in a cold breath.
You are the type
who would never admit defeat
in the presence of strangers
as the sky came falling down.
© 2016 d.c.p.
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