It can’t be understood with
sober questions
or drunken answers;
is there any truth in a lie
if the lie uses truth
to prove something?
the ancient Romans taught us
we will find it somewhere in wine.
soon, it means,
it should come to light.
you’re looking confused
because I’m thinking aloud
and the waiter has just poured
another glass
which you’re slowly moving
away from me.
your eyes are large
and sleepy
while they’re searching for answers
through my glass prism
and you’re touching me with your foot
under the table.
we’re becoming highly sentimental
so we laugh,
like everything is just
a drunken delusion
and will pass
but the fire has already started
and I know, you don’t want to be alone.
it’s time,
let’s go—
tonight we should find the truth
about us.
© Tom Del Braco
tomislavpoetry 