The Portal Ring

    In the risky rope line of birth and survival, I might've fallen long ago. For which I haven't found any light that seems to brighten my day every time I open them. And like today, I found myself where I last left off. The bar.     Peeking around first, I sit up straight and stretched my back backward. Twisting sideways along with a deep inhale as I almost cough out while exhaling, I gain a glimpse of my messed-up, heavily muscular, a mediocre fifty-four-year-old bartending friend (if I could call him that). Currently assorting the endless bottles of kidney cancer in the long shelves with the others.     "What time is it?" I asked.     He grumbled, "You have a watch, Jack," now shining a shot glass thoroughly. "wanna drink before you go?"     "Why the hell not," rumbling around for my wallet after.     Of course, it's gone again. So instead wining like a little baby for my last month's payday check. I lend out a sigh of irritation that he took as a painful sign. I just damn both that leather wallet four weeks ago, and it's not like I have a dry-empty credit card in there along with a picture of me and my girlfriend. But I suppose it could be a good blessing considering that the coupons I had in there were useless anyway, but the condom? I'll let the thief smile for that one.     "Again?" he mumbled. And with nothing to say, he leans over after placing down a bottle of vodka.     "Nah Ben, I can't," I said. "I don't wanna deal with him, your manager is gonna kill you."     "Just take the god damn bottle."-crossing his arms-"I'm no doctor, but I know a man when he's dying." now landing a hand on my left shoulder. "It won't hurt if I give him his last poison."     "Hate to break it to ya,"-taking the offering-"he's already dead."