Jul 2016
Meet me there, you remember? The corner of Air Street, outside the bar that constantly changes its name. Remember? Where we drank margaritas - 2 for 1 - before heading to On Anon for half price champagne.
Ecstatic from happy hour, we needed no more fuel, we were all fired up for fun. We sauntered past restaurants offering every cuisine imaginable to bag ourselves an early table in Freedom Bar, before they introduced an entrance charge.
The sticky floor adhered to the bottom of our platform heels, the bar smelled like bubblegum. Drag Queens dared us to dance; we held onto poles, span and sang.
Slick with sweat, our own, and everyone else's as the place grew packed. We smelled like horses. Tossing our manes, we breathed hard, danced and danced, wild eyed, looking for a ride.
Remember? Before it all went wrong. Before you lost your job, your home, your mind. Before I had children, learned to love a different kind of fun. You kept losing.
Weeks went by, the phone stopped ringing. It was easy not to think of you, I was tired, you wouldn’t be interested in my boring life. You dropped away, silently, stealthily. Suddenly you weren’t there, you weren’t anywhere. Where are you now? How can I find you?
If I had thought I could lose you, I would have tried harder. I would have found you, I would have brought you home. I could have been you, I could have been the one to lose my way.
The colour of remorse is crimson; a flood of red despair. Your hair was slick with it, trailing the tub, tacky, like the dancefloor, where we didn’t care in a different way.
Meet me there, you remember? Come back, I’ll take you dancing, I’ll hold you up, we’ll laugh until we cry. Are you in Heaven? I’ll meet you there. Wait for me - I’m on my way.
Ecstatic from happy hour, we needed no more fuel, we were all fired up for fun. We sauntered past restaurants offering every cuisine imaginable to bag ourselves an early table in Freedom Bar, before they introduced an entrance charge.
The sticky floor adhered to the bottom of our platform heels, the bar smelled like bubblegum. Drag Queens dared us to dance; we held onto poles, span and sang.
Slick with sweat, our own, and everyone else's as the place grew packed. We smelled like horses. Tossing our manes, we breathed hard, danced and danced, wild eyed, looking for a ride.
Remember? Before it all went wrong. Before you lost your job, your home, your mind. Before I had children, learned to love a different kind of fun. You kept losing.
Weeks went by, the phone stopped ringing. It was easy not to think of you, I was tired, you wouldn’t be interested in my boring life. You dropped away, silently, stealthily. Suddenly you weren’t there, you weren’t anywhere. Where are you now? How can I find you?
If I had thought I could lose you, I would have tried harder. I would have found you, I would have brought you home. I could have been you, I could have been the one to lose my way.
The colour of remorse is crimson; a flood of red despair. Your hair was slick with it, trailing the tub, tacky, like the dancefloor, where we didn’t care in a different way.
Meet me there, you remember? Come back, I’ll take you dancing, I’ll hold you up, we’ll laugh until we cry. Are you in Heaven? I’ll meet you there. Wait for me - I’m on my way.
