Sketch of a night

Whirlpool of faces sounds arms voices:
smooth sound of African Jazz rising up
settling down like liquid under my skin.
Sweet nostalgia of warm lighting, live music,
new friends dizzy with dance and drink.
Sweet seductive smell of alcohol
floating like a feather in the wind.
Winding up in unfamiliar arms, hand
in sweaty hand, head on a new shoulder.
Walking in a daze through the swaying crowd.

Later, careening down the stairs with dancing thoughts.
I hear histories repeat themselves in my voice, bleary eyes.
The feather floats, stays with us on the streets, in the car.
Sitting straight and suddenly quiet, I look out the window.
I'm curled up tight in my mind, twisted driftwood.
Regret and yearning sit, heavy and unbearably light,
in the nape of my neck, countries of my body.
I woke up in the morning with watery eyes.
Inebriation and quiet memories leave
a strange aftertaste in my mouth.