It's hard to believe this bottle came all the way from a stupid little valley in France
across the pond, to the Vietnamese owned store next to the Kum & Go.
This is the champagne they drink at parties in sequined dresses & sharp black tie
or the type rappers drink from like milk cartons, poolside with large butted women
but here it is in the refrigerator & here we are drawing a bubble bath for two
with a serum made from chemicals in America but mixed in Laos & sent right back.
It's hard to believe that he's here in this bathroom naked popping the cork,
that through an armful of bad dates of criers & claws & fake online profiles
I found him next to me in a trough urinal peeping at me pee clear beer
but here we are a year later in a bathtub like boys after muddy backyard play
making beards out of bubbles & pouring five star champagne into our mouths.
It's hard to believe that warm water keeps coming out of the faucet from aquifers
deep down & despite our nakedness & virility neither of us came in the suds
that despite his round buttedness we dozed in a tinsy tub made out of the world
& woke up in it lukewarm, bubbleless, dizzy & completely motherless.
Miles Griffis believes in filling the unforgiving minute with sixty seconds worth of distance run. He spends his time in the high altitudes of rocky mountains on foot or ski and low in valley cafes writing what he wishes to read. He is a prose writer, poet, audio essayist and journalist. He is inspired by brave voices. Find his writings at: www.milesgriffis.com