Draft

A little bit of darkness, a little bit of grey
Into the mike in the alley bar, croons M
A shade of 50%, a shade of ten
A glass of ginger ale with lemon peel

 

He sat there, all evening, on a stool on the corner of the bar. He nursed his drink, I believe that’s what they call it. He hardly turned around, and barely flicked a glance when someone sat next to him, briefly. He had a gin and tonic, on melted rocks. He did not really seem tired, simply, somewhere else. Not here with us, the rest of us drowned in this music.

Draft

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