Todays That Never Made It

another dawn approaches, I’m drunk and
sitting in the
dark, scribbling poems, wondering about
the crepuscular what ifs; what if, the ouzo in my
highball asks, Emily was alive? where would we
be? in a lakehouse, away from the
world, sequestered and happy? in a shooting
gallery, homeless junkies fighting with feral cats for a
piece of meat lying in a garbage can? is there a point in
pondering implausible scenarios? asks the beer from its
tall can. I drink them
both down, go for
another round.