Drunk By Noon

I am sitting at a bar – the International Cafe. I told the bartender that I love IPAs so he uncapped a Hop Devil (made in Downingtown, PA) and said this one’s on the house, buddy – you deserve a day. And you know, he’s probably right – lately I’ve been too uptight about who’s sleeping with whom – you know, who’s making who’s night; too obsessed with my own gloom to see the sun’s radiant light shining on my untanned skin. Us regulars talk about our alcoholic sins like veterans talk medals (I assume; I’ve only met one and he had nothing to add, though his green eyes did turn sad) and anyway it’s not so bad – between drinks I try to text you but it ends up sounding forced; I end up thinking more about your reaction than the supreme satisfaction that I get making you happy. Us patrons are all laughing about people I don’t know but may as well and if you could even be here oh I swear to god I’d tell you how the ocean wakes up slowly, how the foamy tides are rolling with the glory of completion, how romantic every beach is stretching far as I can see it –

You owe me one million thousand kisses.

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~ by perfectionatrix on January 21, 2012.

One Response to “Drunk By Noon”

  1. perfection

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