Another Long Night In The Garage - Dustin Vado
A slice of time drinking in living painting, we raise our glasses to theology and politics,
forced to agree to disagree.
In the haze of burning plants, there is no ventilation to release
the party from this scene.
Tonight, there is a new face joining our unlikely cast of a shambled play composed of fathers, daughters,
drunks and brothers.
If only for a moment, he poses for an invisible painter
half smiling half crying in battle with inner demons who show themselves when called
by loneliness, but disappear when drowned by drink and laughter.
The cast has unanimously sentenced theirs to walk the plank into seas of bourbon for the night.
The demons sleep with the fishes
dreaming of their taunting which will come at sunrise
when the drink subsides.
But their work is not the focus of this meeting.
Tonight in the garage, we join hands in blessing the most sacred art passed down
from generations that still had friendship.
We say gracefully a prayer that sounds like a scream to outsiders and a lullaby
to residents accustomed to the barrage of good vibes from brothers who
show affection with insults.
Stuck in jokes, absurdity, deep questions with no answers, exploitation of hearts worn
on sleeves, and self imposed fictions,
the invisible painter adds a new face to the canvas perfecting the dry creeks
where rivers of tears will flow again tomorrow.
But not tonight. Another drag, another pour, another joke, another game,
another praise, another haze, another moment frozen in memory,
another disagreement, another reconciliation, another tear, another commitment,
another long night in the garage.
forced to agree to disagree.
In the haze of burning plants, there is no ventilation to release
the party from this scene.
Tonight, there is a new face joining our unlikely cast of a shambled play composed of fathers, daughters,
drunks and brothers.
If only for a moment, he poses for an invisible painter
half smiling half crying in battle with inner demons who show themselves when called
by loneliness, but disappear when drowned by drink and laughter.
The cast has unanimously sentenced theirs to walk the plank into seas of bourbon for the night.
The demons sleep with the fishes
dreaming of their taunting which will come at sunrise
when the drink subsides.
But their work is not the focus of this meeting.
Tonight in the garage, we join hands in blessing the most sacred art passed down
from generations that still had friendship.
We say gracefully a prayer that sounds like a scream to outsiders and a lullaby
to residents accustomed to the barrage of good vibes from brothers who
show affection with insults.
Stuck in jokes, absurdity, deep questions with no answers, exploitation of hearts worn
on sleeves, and self imposed fictions,
the invisible painter adds a new face to the canvas perfecting the dry creeks
where rivers of tears will flow again tomorrow.
But not tonight. Another drag, another pour, another joke, another game,
another praise, another haze, another moment frozen in memory,
another disagreement, another reconciliation, another tear, another commitment,
another long night in the garage.
