Take a swig from the bottle.
A circle around the fire we sit throwing to it whatever shards of loose debris found
around our legs. Jeremy tells a story of bullets.
Sometimes the gleam from the flame is so bright
we see a moment to forgive the gloom of ourselves.
Our calcium embers might glisten in the grass.
Believe it or not, the message appeared to float in the night fog
where I traced my finger. What a crack up!
Tell God I said He owes me.