A Bottle in Front of Me   There I was, sitting at the bar, just minding my own business, my own bag of troubles and tribulations, trying to find my way, same as everybody there rubbing elbows in such a hushed, purposeful place. I noticed this guy in the corner, looking furtive, afraid. Something in his face seemed too familiar to bear, and it took all I had not to turn away. He grinned, then plunged his hands deeply into his ears, and his eyeballs rolled back white while his fingers worked with vigor, kneading as the tears rolled down his cheeks. It was then that I noticed a smile. He drew his hands from his head and wiped the slime off on his pants and coat. “No more bad memories” was all he said.     © Michael Fleming Marlboro, Vermont October 2021