the_last_time_i_drank tender square the last time i drank, i promised myself i’d stop at two, promised myself i’d come home before dawn. the last time i drank was in a trendy beer garden and the pinot grigio spread through my belly like an egg cracked into a hot pan. the last time i drank, i had my first and final tavern manhattan, the maraschino staining my lips cherry. the last time i drank, i lent my citrine ring to a friend i never saw again (she used it to make it seem like we were out for an engagement party, hoping for free drinks). the last time i drank my tumbler of neat whiskey the liquid meshed with the tawny light of the basement speakeasy and i welcomed oblivion. the last time i drank, i smoked with a stranger beneath an awning as the rain fell in pinpricks, and laughed when he asked me why i wore such ugly pants when i had a great ass. the last time i drank, i was all too eager to head to a club that played the all the music i loved to hate. the last time i drank, i slithered viscous on the dance floor, popped the collar on a stranger’s polo, and when he asked me for my number, told him i was married. the last time i drank, i let some friendly men buy me another drink and a girlfriend escorted me back to our group. the last time i drank, i watched my friends stumble into a lyft, back when the cars had hot-pink mustaches under headlights, watched them head south on main street. the last time i drank, i cycled toward home but stopped to savor one last smoke at a parkette in the middle of a nice neighborhood. the last time i drank, i blacked out on a bench until the rain softly brushed my cheek like a lover, calling me to rise. the last time i drank, i kept repeating the words you wrote in your last message, turning them over like a stone: “i can’t believe i found you.” 210828 what's it to you? who go blather from