Weekly Sip: Alana & Bad Habits

Cocktail waitress and a Sour Cherry Negroni

The Weekly Sip shares poetry tied to a dubious little dive bar in the midwest known as The Oasis. Enjoy weekly song recommendations, drink recipes, and poems - all pairing together less like a fine wine with Brie and more like a cheap shot of bourbon with stale peanuts. Cheers!

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Photo by Ash Edmonds on Unsplash

Song recommendation: “Honky Tonk Women” - The Rolling Stones
Writing poetry that’s part of a larger storyline allows characters to resurface and build a bit of interest; at least that’s the hope. Alana is a reoccurring character in my Welcome to The Oasis collection, and whenever her muse whispers in my ear I know she’s up to something. This week we get another glimpse into Alana’s life, while a villain lurks in the background.

Meet Alana in “Stains on Her Skirt” and “Alana, My Love.”

Drink pairing: Sour Cherry Negroni
Strong, sweet, and a tad sour, this week’s cocktail is a twist on the classic Negroni. Try it over ice or served up in a chilled martini glass.

Sour Cherry Negroni

• 1 oz. gin

• 1 oz. Campari

• 1 oz. sweet vermouth

• 1 oz. tart cherry juice (or one teaspoon cherry syrup)

• Orange twist & Luxardo cherry (or similar)

• Fill shaker with ice, add liquids and shake; strain into tumbler with ice or chilled martini glass, add orange twist and cherry

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Alana III

Splintered steps under feet
onto the sidewalk, concrete

The road to salvation
the princess leaves the park

Wifebeater hugging breasts
jean shorts swagger right to left

Rectangle box, back pocket
on fire in the dark

Pushing blue doors open 
"One good song tonight" she's hoping

"What's this sweet thing doin' here?"
first of many whispered remarks 

Chiseled cheekbones dusted
deep green eyes bright, adjusted

Another night of cue balls and smoke,
she's careful among the sharks

A dollar here, two there,
”Nearly enough to escape from here”         

Never anyone’s baby,
she’ll leave this town in a trail of sparks

Bad Habits

Smoke envelops him
Ember burns paper
Fat lips blow

Every breath a drag
Plump palms slick with sweat
Gold necklaces limp in a black forest

Beady eyes linger
Hovering thigh high
An incinerator of imagined satin

He inquires to his left, “Care to tame some demons?”
She replies, “Some demons are better left in hell.”

Laugh grunt emerges
Yellow teeth exposed
Eyes scan for prey

Butt hits ashes
Flame lights another
Fat lips blow

Smoke envelops him

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