On the Rocks

I dragged the crate and put it in my car.

On the Rocks

We met in shanty 
down by the docks.
He pulled a bottle from 
a dogeared brown box.
He asked me how I take it—
straight or on the rocks.

A horn from a tug called
out in the night.
The window was painted
with mustard yellow light.
He asked me with a smile
if Dewar’s was alright.

He pointed to a crate
and said, “Handle with care.”
The job …