drunken dreams

Let’s have ourselves a drink,
and moonlit laughter -
invite cigarette smoke to float through our hair,
toast toward city lights -
beer dripping on tables,
reciting how we’ll change the world,
for the millionth time.
They’ll usher us out,
I’ll walk sideways and stumbling,
you’ll hold my waist
while hailing a cab.
I’ll giggle, look up at you and say,
“I don’t know if you are true,
but I hope we stay fond together.”

Then we’ll go places, baby,
based on those drunken dreams,
wake up in cheap rentals,
sand and sunlight all over the floor.
I’ll write my novels
and you’ll scribble life’s answers on the walls
in some language I can’t understand.
We’ll make French toast on Saturdays,
catch flights on Sundays,
get home just in time to fall asleep
right after I point at the moon,
ask about Jupiter
and some other random thing.
We’ll say we’re glad for the adventure
once again.