Champagne Problems

 

"Champagne Problem" – Bukowski Style

the bottle is empty.
so are you.
so am i.

the train rattles past midnight
and your name is just another bad decision
i won’t be making again.

you sat there,
pretty as a postcard i’d never send,
thinking love was something
i’d fold up and tuck into my back pocket.

you wanted a ring.
i wanted another drink.

so you left,
took your suitcase,
left the keys in the bowl,
and the smell of your perfume
hung around like an unpaid tab.

what was it you called it?
a champagne problem?
nah—
that’s just a rich man’s way of saying
life goes to hell,
but at least the bubbles are still cold.

"Champagne Problem" – Mary Oliver Style

i walked through the winter fields
where the frost clung soft as regret.
your voice, still warm,
settled in the golden hush of the grass.

you had a ring in your pocket.
i had a heart full of wind.

some things bloom,
some things break,
some things are meant to be left
as footprints in the snow.

the fox watches from the thicket,
tail curled,
knowing all good things vanish
if you reach too fast.

you will love again.
i will love the silence
of the pines bending
to hold the weight of the sky.