Heads roll,

laughing.

Hair flies

unbound.

Red splashing

sticky spills.

The swinging door

Shuts away the tavern light.

The sun was a guillotine,

descending slowly, and inevitably.

Cold, dead air was an awakening.

The cobblestones were shark fins,

circling their oblivious prey.

Six drunken steps, a tumble.

Plunging earthward,

to the grey stone sea.

Breaking on impact.

Curling fingers open,

relinquishing glass.

The dark ruby wine

dripping out of the

clay brown bottle.