shotsshotsshotsshots shots
a BRR BZZZ of a soiree blitz this bling yeah
her big ass bouncing to the bass in a mini skirt
all our eyes on that bounty, ‘cept Navi & Joel
tongue fluttering in a shadowy corner —
their own pocket of this underground world —
we’re elbow to rib to face to butt in here
the ceiling in this dungeon drips with sweat
our humidity animalic and musky
everything is glowing amber sunset dusk
BADUMBADUMBADUM POW POW POW
my eardrums are seared medium rare
she grabs my hips and dips into my skin
stepping inside the envelope of me
watching me unravel like a loose joint
intoxicating and verdant lush-kush-hush
her hair is peaches & apricots, skin like sea breeze
she whispers against my lips, air vibrational
I can hear the pulsating of hearts-bass-genitalia
“want to go back to mine?” I read her lips
fluent in this language of night-light-bright
we meet in heat — a clash of coal on fire —
crackle sizzle SSSSHHHHHHHHHHHH
Jose taps my shoulder, I feel his bulge
trying to avoid the sink of my spine
as he hands me a small bottle
more shotsshotsshotshots shot
it tastes strange — wrong and dense
— like licking batteries or mint & OJ
“WHAT THE FUCK?” he yells in my face
I hear words for the first time in hours
glancing down I see it is not a mini vodka
D O N OT C ONS UM E.
I struggle to focus the words to sense
not the typical pregnant belly warning label
haze eases for a second and clarity
barrels into my mind like a sumo wrestler
DO NOT CONSUME.
“did I just drink poppers?”
bitch, yes what the fuck, someone screams
now the others have made their way over
do you need to tactical chunder? Joel asks
dammit there’s no signal I can’t get WebMD
Asma is frantically typing into her phone
screen strangely blue in this reddish cocoon
her hands no longer holding my waist
I feel their absence like a loss
the ghost of her touch lingers there, fading fast
I feel fine, I say, I’ll get some water
I push through dewy branches and boughs to reach the bar
Nate, the bartender, hands me water and a whiskey
THUMPTHUMPTHUMP THUMPITY THUMPTHUMPTHUMP
I look for Asma in the thick woodland of limbs
are those her dark eyes maybe – was that her calf?
no, there’s her black hair… wait is that her lipstick —
overhead lights brighten to unbearable white
blinking the diamante glare from my eyes
I scan the steadily anthropo-morphing crowd
every maybe of Asma morphs into certain strangers
blonde / brunette / pale / hair limp / eyes watery blue / green / hazel
music quietens to a slow 80’s tune saying goodbye
c’mon, time to go, Joel says grabbing my wrist
he takes my whiskey and downs it —
its closing time