drunk ramble

i met the love of my life
on a cold winter's night.

fresh out of the gay bar,
where a woman tilted my chin
and into my eyes
she did grin.
moved her hips a little closer.
panic took over.

so we wandered down the cold streets
lesbian platony
and helped ourselves to all
the bright shops could offer.
but they wouldn't let us sit down.
so i met a boy
from plymouth
with a dark bandanna.
and he bartered his body
(a dance for a lady)
for a ride in a taxi
but i said;
"my grandmother is dead
and this taxi is my inheritance
so take it
merry christmas."
to the etap hotel...
to his drunken, man smell.
he kissed my cheek,
and my romantic self
weeped.
even if she'd never have him
between her thighs
or even
in her heart.
even if she spent her life
loving women
and making art.
longing for some kind of garden
state.
or a place
to sit
and for her
always her
in dreams
and visions
and ideals...
she waits.