A bottle in time

There he sat, round and solo

Drinking his beer with a sway.

A friend sat close, but in anyone's eyes

His presence was light years away.

The clock ticked, the alcohol flowed, 

We watched with devils eyes,

He walked around, a drink in hand,

Clinging to groups of guys.

He was joined at 11 by an older man,

But one could never tell,

As the beats progressed, the man sped up

As though under a magic spell,

His eyes were wide, his movements quick,

The people turned away.

And then, Alas! He found a friend,

He no longer jived astray.

The large one lunged, the small one hid,

Avoiding a drunk collision,

A hand on his shoulder, a walk to the door

The room swayed with blurry vision.

An hour later the man returned!

Not persuaded bed-time was near,

I looked away, with sorry eyes,

As he threw up all his beer.

In the background the other was zooming by,

No time to stop and chat!

While the poor man, leant over the bar

And belched and breathed and spat.

The tunes died down, the lights went off,

Speedy ran back home,

The drunk man turned to finally leave

And through the night, he continued to roam.

- a poem describing a moment of our last night in don det, Laos.