Days By David Painter

It makes no difference as I unscrewed the cap.
It could be Monday for all I care
I watched the amber liquid fall
and kiss the ice in the bottom of the glass
clacking some with its sudden warmth.
Looking down I thought is two fingers enough?
My mind shot back the answer as I
continued to pour.

It is early morning, but already it’s hot.
Most days start like this,
even the sun makes a bee-line for the ice
no drought to cool itself off.
I pour another hoping that
this one will last longer.
The mailman drops off the mail
a few read, past due, then he
melts into the heat of the day.

Sitting on the front porch even the
occasional breeze is warm.
I pour another just to cool off.
So it goes most days,
the sun eating my ice
and me trying to stay ahead of it.

David is an International published poet.He is a member of the Inner city writers’ group and penned in the city.His works have been published in Sweetycat Press,Piker press, Rye Whiskey Review,Clarendon House, Spillwords Press,The Writers’ Club,and  Dyst Literary Journal.as well as The World  of Myth,Every Writer,Ohio Bards and Academy of the Heart. He is a member of Ohio Writers Group and West Virginia Writers Group. His book of poems Thoughts Alone the Way  is available on Amazon