The last two

Ahhh if you and I
 were the last two at two;
the sudden sound of the barman's melody...
last call for alcohol.
The poetry of two a.m.,
conversation and sloe gin. Ahhh,
if you and I were the last two at two,
at the edges of night and morn;
no sideways glance would pass the chance
to sidle and say " did you have one of those..?"

Days that make the ways of life seem unfathomed, or
Days that part the waters only to see them fall.
Days that show our best and worst in a single request
when God offers us the chance to be an angel, and we quiver...

Ahhh, but that was all in the first glass and this
is the miracle of two at two, and,
like thought in my mumbled inventions,
the chance of further sobriety is remote
and as far away as dawn.