The orange slices floated
still what they were
but more
painted by cranberry juice
drunk with mango rum

The crystal adorned ball descends
as they yell and leap
throw themselves into arms
waiting for this moment
drunk with desire

A difference of one minute
imbued with cavernous significance
by men longing for do-over’s
women wishing to wipe anguish away
drunk with longing

Souls ascribing magic
to the natural unrolling of time
adrift from the truth that sings out with each new second:
Every day holds all promise
dripping with possibility

Julie Ayers


About Julie Ayers

Seasoned apocaloptimist, keen admirer of well-placed words, fierce mama bear of extra special children, black belt hugger, and advocate for a fashion rebellion which elevates the most human of hearts to socially acceptable outerwear.

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