Berry Me in Bourbon

by Robert Carr

We settle at our deuce
beside the brick oven,
order the usual glasses
of Sauvignon Blanc,

a pizza with pepper
and mushroom.
On the drink menu,
a concoction called

Berry me in Bourbon–
Jack, blackberry
liquor with a twist.
Sounds delicious!

I want it bad, but only
allow myself to drink
bourbon with one
special friend.

You worry I’ll become
your mother.
She carried a thermos
of Johnnie, shared

a backseat Manhattan
with girlfriends
on her way to Lucia’s.
In the conversation

with myself,
I keep changing rules.
Maybe if I think
about my special

friend, I can pour
a highball when
you’re not around.
I’m happy today,

in the life we’ve created.
You stare into open
flame, smashed bottle
in the distance.

My mind, as always,
turns to parting.
Don’t die first.
I fear the day

your mother’s ghost
no longer hovers,
no longer chews the crust
in your tense jaw.