Old Fashioned Fantasy

Old Fashioned Fantasy

A Poem by AJ Douglas

Sauntering into the pub from out of the fog
the varnished wood paneling on the walls
reflecting the amber light from the Edison bulbs
in their Art Deco fixtures hanging overhead
the scent of the air a mix of lavender, lemon, and leather
I see you sitting alone at the bar as you always are
your hair glinting gold with the slightest hint of red
You greet me as I seat myself on the stool at your side
the bartender placing an Old Fashioned in front of me
identical to your own but for an extra orange slice
as he knows by now that’s the way I like it
I take a sip as you compliment my dress
then inquire as to how I’ve been since last we met
I tell you nothing’s changed or I wouldn’t be here
Noticing your glass is nearly empty I order you another
dropping the cherry from mine into it as Al Bowlly croons
about a ring around the moon from a gramophone
I recall how he was killed in the Blitz and buried
in a mass grave as if he was no one of any consequence
You gaze at me with your azure eyes as I light a cigarette
asking once again why I insist on murdering myself
I answer you as I have a hundred times before
I'm already dying as even someone as celebrated
as you will someday so what does it matter
This is all simply an absurd fantasy anyway
The real you doesn’t know me or give a damn what I do

© 2023 AJ Douglas

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Added on July 30, 2023
Last Updated on July 30, 2023
Tags: death, dying, loneliness, depression, fantasy, celebrity, fame


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