In another time I wasn't so cynical
I worked like a young mule in the modern world
that only made me an ass
I won't be humping the weight of a wasted generation anymore
Claire had style. She drove me wild. When she walked the breeze lost it's breath. I tossed a cigarette on the ground and tasted the coat of beer thick in my mouth. I looked at her there laughing, her hair glimmering in the night like a black pearl. I shuffled back inside half-drunk half in-love. The lights weren't turned out but it was getting dark in my mind. Glimpses of people passing muddled inside my head as I stared down to the bubbly bottom of my pint glass. People were playing pool, or raising glasses, or hands, or cheering. I guess that I cheered to. When people get drunk they want the world to know. It's their personal accomplishment and everyone should cheer a bit when they are drunk. It's like celebrating because we found a way to make fire. We found a loophole. Raised ourselves from the darkness and found a way to live outside of this trap that is our ego. We found a way to let go of all of those instincts, fears, sorrows, inevitable truths and replace them with feelings of happiness. I cheered. Here in this bar, these thirty people, we are one and the same, all in this together. We know where we are, why we are here, and goddammit we will have fun. I take a shot that I don't remember buying and squint around the room for her. My mouth is watering from the severity of the liquor. I spot her at the opposite end of the bar. I'm feeling imaginative, creative, one of a kind. I feel confident, happy, determined. I wipe my hands on my pants and gather myself together. I walk between micro groups of men and women loud and boisterous late into this revolutionary night. I shuffle and slide, perfectly in tune with the crowd, my people. I tip my non-existent hat at passers by as we squeeze through chasms created by the drunks walking and standing. I feel good, goddammit I must look good too. She looks bored stirring a straw in her glass, all dressed up and no fun to be had. Does she know what breaking through we are all doing together? Does she know this is an age of excitement and life stronger than any generation? I am going to tell her. She looks up at me like a lonely child. I feel like I could take care of her and hold her for just a minute, we could play and be happy, be these wild animals together. Her smile begins and she gives a slight nod of realization. I open my mouth "soo ja claire, zyu luks guud.." I catch the vomit at the back of my throat and run outside to spew it on the sidewalk and partially in the planter where a young tree lives it's life. I light a cigarette and walk home through the dark trees and melancholy streets. When I woke up the next day I was pissed because I had puke on my shoes.