If I Were a Cocktail
She asks-
“If you were a cocktail, what would you be?”
What comes to mind is a glass bottle of gasoline-
thickened with rubber cement, or vaseline,
corked with a soaking rag, already burning
What a dream, to be thrown-
to break, to light up the quiet night
with a crash against the concrete-
to be angry flames tearing into the street,
up the walls, across the city-
I’ll burn out slowly under the autumn sky,
touch the river, and turn to steam-
I’ll live a short, destructive life,
and I’ll take it all down with me.
(Note: She says I’m a whiskey sour.)
Michael Hill was born and raised in upstate South Carolina. He has a screenwriting degree from Western Carolina University and currently lives in Indian Land, South Carolina with his wife and son. He has published a number of poems and short stories in regional journals and also creates comics with his brother, artist R. Case Hill.