Of Love and Liquor

The first of my loves tasted of cheap wine in a water bottle.

He snuck in windows my senior year.

I wanted him, but in the wrong ways,

And it hurt,

So this love accused me of lying, and he wasn’t wrong.

The next love smelled of menthols and tasted like cheap beer.

He was a Pabst Blue Ribbon

and me waiting for him outside of a concert

Because I got kicked out for sneaking a drink from him.

He did not come to wait with me.

He was followed not so long by and old and new love in the summer

Mixed with the smell of salt and the taste of expensive tequila,

All quick fun and rekindled crushes from high school days,

But ultimately a pair of Vans I’d outgrown.

And last was the love only felt, only said, only expressed

with a chaser of whiskey

Alone and naked,

Metaphorically and literally,

Oh but this one. This new love

This new love is a fresh drink of something

I have no memory of tasting,

And I wish for more of.