My phone remembers more of last night than I do

from a blend of blurry faces and bathroom floors

and a credit bar bill with a tab higher than I remember drinking

between the round of shots and my spiked lemonade

and the line of boys I was telling my name

and there were hands at my waist and lips at my neck

lost in a haze of drunken consent

drunk missteps include

acts during, also before:

eating spaghetti

*writer disavows claims of actual events that could have inspired this haiku

Woke up in a Mini Cooper

Pondering the night's regret

Feeling guilty, feeling super

Strung-out drinking... Walker, wet

Pitiful and drunken stupor

But the girl I can’t forget

I think her name was something with a...

Maybe it was Juliette

I'd seen her in her satin shirt

This young, petite, long-haired brunette

Sprayed on denim jeans overt

My eyes to something less a threat

But when her eyes found mine to flirt

I know I broke out in a sweat

I introduced myself and she said...

Perhaps it was Bernadette

Drinking, dancing, flirting, glancing

At her slender silhouette

I'd considered refinancing

Going deeper into debt

For such a beauty so entrancing

Eyes like none I'd ever met

I'd watched her lips as she revealed

I'm positive it was Jeanette

We drank a toast and danced engrossed

And I would make a bet

The Father, Son, and Holy Ghost

Would pine for this coquette

She would banter, I'd riposte

Each other we'd abet

No question, I would not forget her

I think her name was Antoinette?

The fire alarm caught someone chancing

Careless with a cigarette

And sprinklers rained on our romancing

We stayed there while others set

To dash away while we kept dancing

Silky smooth and soaking wet

In her hand a Johnny Walker

In my arms I held... Paulette?

Ushers ushered us outside

Breaking up our sweet duet

Her rushing friends rushed in and pried

Our hands apart and seemed upset

That we would stop and stay inside

And cause their blushing cheeks to fret

And so without a goodnight kiss

I said a sweet goodbye to umm... Collette?

With nothing left for me to do

I wandered, pondered, wondered yet

I strove to know the name I knew

The girl I know I’ll not forget

Sweet Antoijeanbernacolljuliorpaulette

I ordered a drink at the bar I'd come to

Only name I recalled: Johnny Walker... wet

And wound up in a Mini Cooper

Thinking ’bout the girl I can’t forget

Ah! It's Amy! Ha! 100% positive! It was Amy. Definitely Amy.

94% positive.

Before the Shot,

you said:

"Here's to Life!"

and left me—

Hung over

to Forget

A shot of whiskey,

Maybe two.

Hours of Misery and Waiting.

Hard oak wood

A breath of chance.

Soul is dying

Losing time,

Take me away.

Budweiser dripping,

Producing my puddle of regret,

Discarded bottles strewn around,

A ball of fuzz expanding my skull.

Memory of darkened eyes,

Deafened ears,

Stale breath,

Slurred speech.

Twelve hours of labour,

Pockets now barren,

Jelly limbs try to rise,

Like dominoes, they fall.

...if Time

is destined

to be...

Wasted,

*hiccup*

(and it Is)

then my

regret is,

*Ssip ... ssiP*

that you

are not,

wasting

It with—

*

I'd been back door bumming

For your love

Like a hyper, quivering beast...

With contention

I returned to the habits that secreted

Syncopation and peace

Worth having...

In a hopeless longing to descend;

Like the ragged remains of a drifter's husk

That had been repeatedly violated,

And discarded in an rush,

I took my leave in vain...

What seems fictional supersedes the actual

Intestinal tensions...

Coming in and out like some unmentioned disguised

Condition of distaste...

My stomach yearns a frequent pumping...

I chase

The lump inside your throat

Like tin cans

Down an artery of roads

To seize a frozen instant kiss...

What once was glanced in

Love

By cunning eyes remains

So cruelly dismissed and roped off...

Sentenced to a dismal rain ...

A sanctuary for loose soul...

Over the side-lines

Of what's tame...

We crooned and crashed upon

Wet bridges...

Like windswept drift wood;

The wind had tossed away

Our tinkered placement...

7/31/23

Bunny Villaire

balled in fetal

regret, i feel the

growl of engine

like an ache

in my belly

tongue lined

with vomit

from the evening

before, regret

is a mirror

and if looks

could kill, I just

cut myself wide

with the shards

of an empty bottle

of grief