Two Bottles

Two bottles used to be my evening folly.

The first bottle, jovial and endearing, embraced me. A surge of connection enlivened my being.

The second bottle, meant to enhance and prolong, actually sealed my fate. Corruption and sabotage, they ruin the fragile notion of peace initially so warmly received.

I awaken in darkness, terrified and alone. My two acquaintances lie on the floor, empty, devoid of spirit. No respite, their presence was only a temporary soothing, before the manacles of addiction summon malevolent obedience once more.

New York Observation

I was sat on a Central Park bench next to a man who was down on his luck. He asked a passer by for a cigarette whilst opening a sandwich box and placing a soft drink beside him.

He was refused the cigarette and exclaimed disappointment and frustration.

A crowd had gathered around the ‘Imagine’ mosaic singing the song and a guy strummed a guitar in time to the melodic singing.

I gave $20 to the man sat next to me and suggested he buy himself some cigarettes. He thanked me for my generosity.

I’ve never told this story in the 5 years that have since elapsed. I think about the absurdity of it at times. I wondered what John would’ve made of it. A guy eating hand to mouth surviving from one day to the next whilst people paid homage to a song with sentiments so righteous they could only practice hypocrisy because they were so wrapped up in their own experience.

“Imagine all the people sharing all the world.” Just imagine …