Sober Memories

I lost my halo in a pub somewhere,
perhaps on the lap of a stranger.
Certainly intoxicated.
Obliterated.

Finishing the unattended drinks,
mixing and matching until
praying over a toilet bowl, still
Loyal to me.

Slow motion dancing on checkered
floors that were never
quite
completely horizontal.

Pressing my sweaty body up
against the tiles in the cubicles,
and being confused that people could
see me. Door, idiot. Door.

Kicking against barmen who had
a problem with blood
on the bar counter. It wasn’t my face,
not my blood.

Roulette tables. Snap. Get a whiskey.
No cigarettes on the edge of the table ma’am.
Can’t be talking to me. I am no ma’am.
Oh. I did that? So sorry.

Handcuffs, and I lost a shoe.
I don’t like clowns, so I smacked him in the face.
All the fuss over a painted man child.
and raccoon faced mug shot of a one shoe drunk.

I miss the way Jameson smelled as the
heavy bottomed glass tilted beneath
my nose.
It made me promises it never kept.