a bit of poetry

I'm pulled up to my stool, a vodka and cranberry in hand.
The illusion begins fading quickly that everything is ok.
But only in my own mind.
The great dancing barmistress is doing her routine well tonight.
Smiling and keeping everyone entertained.
The 18 year old ripe little peach of a hostess with big tits begins chatting it up.
Her passion and excitement about the future and college and dreams sends me spinning.
Perhaps it's the raspberry vodka?
Perhaps it's her tits.
Perhaps it's the truth in it all that dilutes my buzz?

Oh the possiblilties.

So many choices it's hard to imagine which way to go.
The joy of youth. The joy of 18. The joy of when my tits were that perky.
I feel cheated.
The moment passes. It's been long enough I've sat shamed of my mistakes, my past.
I engage my soul and join my little peach in her joy.


and then I wrote this....about.the.boy.sitting.next.to.me....not.the.peach!!!
(but.thanks.for.the.laughs.everyone.that.thought.I.had.turned.lesbian.all.of.a.sudden!!!!!)


P.S.(the.periods.are.here.cause.my.damn.space.bar.is.broken!)

There are days
moments
you know, those moments when
i want to kiss you in public
make it known
or just share with the world
that I think you are fantastic.
you are worth sharing.
everyone that knows you, knows this.
but I want everyone to know more.
that you and i share more than a barstool.
more than a drink.

there are letters that will never be written
songs never sung.
drums that will never beat to my rhythm.
the continuation of our ideas
the conversation.
the argument worth having
the mind and heart worth sharing.

it all goes unspoken and untouched.
you remain to me, hidden.

in the wee hours
on the black paved streets
with pulses racing
we touch
we connect
we share in intamacy that defys my logic

i move to be near you
"i just gotta do this"
we kiss.

you like a certain level of unpredicatbility.
and i,


i
like
you.