I am Gray,
I know;
the sky is gray,
I know;

another night
has come, 
another dive into 
black rum.

I turn my head 
toward solid music
to hold me
until I am fully drunk and 

looking young again —
not to say I am
young again — not to say
the Mirror agrees with me — 

when I do
this rum lights Shit up
and this funk
holds shit down

and what I see
in that mirror looks like
fun and steam,
best moments

of a black rum life — 
this bar lit barely at all,
full of stomp and promise,
brush, rub, tug, groove;

I may soon be
out of black rum
but I’m not yet
out of blacktop;

that band
may be shutting down
but I’m not yet
out the door;

I may be driving
into the dark
but I know where
this road goes

and with any luck 
I’m not going down it
all alone
tonight.