Tristan Robert Lange

The Cork

I’m here.

Where?

Here. Not there.

Stuck in this spot—

Not going anywhere.

“You don’t drink do you?”

Nope.

But I am here.

No place for me—

Evident and clear.

Yet, I am here,

Hands shaking—

Frozen fear...

“Hey, great to see you.”

Who, me?

Thank God—

Strangers

Passing by

Me—here—the fear,

I can’t even feel,

I am numb to tears.

Frigid, frozen,

Tapped out—

Pour me over—

I’m the cork

Popped for

Another’s pleasure.

What drastic,

Drawn out measure,

Must I do,

What course to steer,

For me to get

The hell out of

Here?

© 2025 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.

First published on tristanrobertlange.com, January 5, 2026.

Tittu