still another hour until Jeopardy

the bartender shoots shit with the few sad-looking patrons. miserable, half-empty, 6pm. bad light making it's way from an Iron City neon, through the cloud of blue smoke hanging in the air like a ghost.

still another hour until Jeopardy and I
sing "White Christmas" into the neck of my bottle.

trout fisherman.

I find myself thinking about a ship sinking as I fill an ice cube tray and losing count of things, like the nine scoops to make a pot of coffee, very easily.