Budweiser Memories

Umpteen bottles of Budweiser eagerly consumed, blotted out some details leaving others unscathed. So that particulars - like the colour of his eyes - were gone by morning, while others - like the feel of leather draped over naked shoulder - are vividly clear even now. I remember the cold, exaggerated perhaps against hot nightclub skin and looking up during an awkward pause, to see the sky; black satin, studded with a trillion diamonds. He was tall, with long, flowing tresses, so that when he kissed me I felt I was drowning in hair. Budweiser has erased the colour of his locks but I remember the scent; freshly washed, and tainted with cigarette smoke. Perhaps it was the length of his hair that brought out the bi-sexual in me, but I clearly remember as our tongues danced, combing with my fingers and imagining a girl. I don’t know - because this part is drowned out - but maybe that was why we never got past kissing, so that my drink muddled mind could continue in its mission to ignore his masculinity. Fingers not allowed to travel past enveloping hair can easily be tricked into feeling exactly what the brain wants them to feel.This one has been written and rewritten about a zillion times and I am still never happy with it, so any constructive comments would be most appreciated. I don't know why, but I aways find poems written about real events harder to write, than when I just make something up! Written November 18th, 2001 © on Nov 17 2001 07:20 PM PST   18 • 0 • 16