It was no longer a glass half-empty or half-full
or whatever the saying was that sparked
so much disagreement;
that point had come and gone long ago.
It was just plain empty now.

Infinite glasses of dark amber
wouldn't put the world back in order.

So he went out into the midnight cold
and formed a small, drunken snowman
from the gray slush piled by the roadside.

It was a vigil older than religion,
held in the city so the sun would rise
and the bar would reopen.