A strange night at borgo’s?

Maybe it was a combination of too much beer and mescal that brought this on or maybe when you mix that up with a healthy dose of a Tom Waits chaser and a little Bob Dylan on the side is when you have the makings of a lonely night of nostalgia. Maybe when the house is quiet, the telephone is shut off, and the only sound that you hear is the ice melting in your glass or maybe it’s the sound that the twist off makes when you uncap another beer. Maybe it’s the coldness in the air as you wait for the heat to rise or the maybe it’s the sound the furnace makes a little while later when you adjust the thermostat to stop from shivering.

Maybe it’s the chili pepper lights giving off a soft red glow in a darkened room or maybe it’s the old photographs that stare at you from the walls. Maybe it's your eyes as they mist over or maybe it's when your mind takes you to places you’d thought you’d forgotten, or maybe you at least hoped you did.

Maybe it’s the books that stare down at you from the shelves with a fine coat of dust covering their jackets that serves as a reminder of the last time you picked them up or maybe it’s the hum of the refrigerator as it whirs away in the kitchen. Maybe it’s the tick tock of the clock that hangs on the wall or the soft buzz of cars passing by on the darkened streets outside on a cold winter night.

Maybe it’s the cloud of smoke from the cigarette that hangs in the air in the reddish colored room or maybe it’s the butts that sit in the ashtray. Maybe it’s the smell of warmed up leftovers and the ping of the microwave or maybe it’s the patterns on your plates and silverware.

Maybe it’s the flicker of light from the candle in the living room that makes the walls seem to shimmy and dance or maybe it’s the sound the stairs seem to make as you make your way upstairs to go take a piss. Maybe it’s the sight of unmade beds and half opened doors that make you want to peek inside to see if somebody is there even though you know they aren’t.

Maybe it’s the click of the switch and the glare that the light gives off that hits your eyes and makes you blink or maybe it’s the toys that you see scattered about the deserted room. Maybe it’s the sight of half finished notes to anonymous friends or the dull gaze of stuffed animals as they stare down at you from their assorted perches on the different colored walls. Maybe it’s the pile of broken clothes that sit in the corner because they don’t fit anymore or maybe it’s the laundry basket full of clean ones just waiting to get dirty again.

Maybe it’s the tiny smile that crosses your face or the lonely tear that runs down your cheek when you think about times gone past or maybe it’s the same tiny smile and same lonely tear you get when you think about the times to come. Maybe it’s the way the pillow caresses your head and your eyes slowly drift shut or maybe it’s that last final thought that you have before you drift off to sleep.

But then again, maybe it’s like I said earlier, maybe it’s too much beer, mescal, Waits and Dylan that all combine to play tricks with your head.