Bohemians
   gathered around 
   the absinthe bottles,
  the light hitting 
   the bottles shone
   a radioactive shade
   of green.

That green light
   threw blotches
  against walls &
 floors & people &
  anything else there
  was to illuminate.

The more they drank,
 the less green the mottling --
  not because the empty glass 
   was clear, &
 didn't refract, or spray green,
   but because the splotches
  turned every color --
   every color there is --
  and the colors danced
   around the increasingly 
  amorphous surfaces.

 Until, at last,
  everyone was asleep,
 and visions of Green Fairies
  danced in their dreams.