sloe gin

in high school
i got drunk on sloe gin
one night
on the high school
bleachers with
a bunch of other miscreant
teenagers.

we passed the bottle around.
perry, and jim.
wendy.
Michael may have been there too,
he hadn't left for the war yet
and died.

i haven't forgotten that night.
the blur of van gogh stars above,
the violet twilight
that morning.
the wild spin of inebriation.
i can still taste the tilt of the plum
red drink
on my lips,
the rush of laughter turned so quickly
into woe.

just the smell now, a brief
whiff reminds me
of then. of that sickness.
of being
so young and alive, so confused
and yet
unburdened
by what tomorrow could bring.