Drink Poem

To be a freshman again

Drink

I meet her, Loopy, she says, for Lupinelli,

Her first name lost to intoxication,

My memory drowns in alcohol.

Her young face as full of joy as her cup is hollow froth.

Her hair falls down her back,

The blue dress accentuates her eyes,

Which catch mine.

 

We drink.

We talk.

We laugh.

An existential vacuum swallows meaning from our lives as we swill down drinks.

I hold out my hand and she takes it,

I lead her down an ancient set of steps,

Paint chipping off the worn down wood

We pour into the dank room with the others.

It is a dreary scene, a basement filled with dim lighting, painted stone, and bare support beams,

 

“Be my partner” I offer,

She looks at the table before us,

Cups spread out in timeless tradition,

An image of tireless competition and drink,

She’s anxious,

Inhibition abandoned,

And with hesitation, she agrees,

It’s all set up, we step up.

Balls in hand,

Ready to be tossed,

We return to the Dionysian spirit.

 

Her friends have left.

She looks at me,

“I’m sorry” she says,

Sincere and drunk,

“I can’t leave them.”

But they left her!

 

My drink is half empty,

My heart drops and my soul is heavy.

She floats up the stairs,

Bubbles rise up my cup as skunked flavor settles to its depths,

 

 

I watch myself sink down into this basement,

Deeper into depression.

 

Why is drunk love so quick and painless?

Where did they take the love of my night, Loopy?

Author's Note

Just something I wrote a while ago. All comments are welcome.

Reviews

[tekphobik]

oh drunken love, the most honest of loves, so full of passion but without concern for past or future. We've all been there, so this poem is universally identifiable. Excellent job of capturing that moment.