It’s tequila.
It should be like mother’s milk to me.
But a teat never spun my head like this.
At last, not as I remember.
I’m seated at the bar
while sipping this distillation
from the blue agave plant.
I feel as if the other patrons
are staring at me,
that the glimmer off the whiskey bottles
is stage lights.
No, really,
I’m no star.
I’m just lonely
on this evening,
not prominent enough to be anybody,
but accessible
if somebody wishes to be
my new best friend.
But then I had to order
this tequila,
and though my emotions, my senses,
are still functioning,
my brain’s no longer in the loop.
From this moment on,
my memory has a lot to learn
but lacks a reliable teacher.
So, if you are my new best friend,
remind me sometime,
I beg you.
