Cerebral
Winter, I’ve traded
juniper elixir mixed
with tonic & lime,
migrated North
where night comes early.
Summer & South
vague memories—like men
& drinks, I cannot keep
count. It’s cold enough
for Scotch; I credit older men
who’ve taught me how
it blooms in the body, dark
atmospheres clouding logic.
Sometimes I reject logic,
reject instructions
to take Scotch slow
on the tongue, to take
one lover at a time. I reject
this man’s “possibility,”
his “Forever,”
tell him no mixers,
just straight. I want truth
neat. He tells me
don’t think.
Feel. I use flesh
to find myself. Look,
I say. The last man I loved
sober is disappearing.