"Whiskey" [by Kimberly Steele]

Whiskey

We have remained such close friends,
intermittently, that I sometimes regret our bad blood.
I admit, I am mercurial; he promises
sweet nights—those spent between old lovers
who catch up for hours, then put one another to bed
before waking up to a strange room and severed loyalties.

For days I enjoy the solitude: peripheral vision,
comprehending what I read in a book,
driving my car cautiously, with somewhere to go.
But when our distance finally defeats me,
his pure joviality and constant forgiveness
inspire a longing so sharp,

I call on my old friend,
who greets me without hesitation,
as though we never fell out of favor;
and it fills me with such blinding gratitude
that he maintains the loving faithfulness to
stay with me throughout the night.

-- Kimberly Steele