Your mother took me by surprise,
placing her hand on mine.
“You need to go find him,” she said.
He’s never out of my head.
And
I’m not old enough to be in this bar;
But I’m good, wherever we are.
All of us leaning heavily against peeled walls;
something ruthless cackles the Last call.

Bitter foam seeps up into my mouth, and
Hours of debauchery escape through the swinging door;
Replaced so quickly with mosquitoes,
Flying wherever the night goes.

You’re across the bar.
Hope I make it.

Breathe.

They pour another shot,
and you take it.

Breathe.
Don’t tip over.

They hand me one;
I want to fake it.

Breathe
Don’t t—

Caught—just before I fall.
You always make me drink it all.