#pjel

What was a good memory without a drink? She raises a glass. “Ta our arrangemen’, then.” She raises a glass. “To friendship, and looking forward.” She raises a glass. “T’ new friends, an’ new business associates!” She raises a glass. “Ta chance encounters, an’ wherever the hells you got those sunglasses.”

And so many glasses are pressed into her hand blackberry sour fine Malbec whiskey and pomegranate double of rye, cherry bourbon and cold brew on the side grapefruit and tequila watery ale with grain like sawdust

This was right. It was a pairing, a cocktail with two notes. drink and company, company and drink

Words as soft as silk that say “I’ll tell you when you’re drunker,” “Talk like this is better in person over a big bottle of something,” “Is that still your first glass?”

She never needs convincing, but she’d trust every word from those blue-tinged lips Thrills every time their fingers brush against each other at the neck of a whiskey bottle Everything made sense if she said so Pour herself into her schema What did a bottle do but give liquid shape And what shape did she have without

And it lets her feel without breaking Cry without shaking Numbness then catharsis Unlocking doors that she keeps closed In front of people she hardly knows- Halls gathering dust that beg for company Vulnerability with plausible deniability The escape hatch of “sorry, I was in my cups.”

So she washes herself away Lets the waves crash against the shore Wearing rock to sand

But as she sits at the thousandth thousandth bar To order her third drink of the night And thrils at the prospect of a friend Opening a new keg for her nameday tomorrow night A voice at her shoulder says something new,

“Going to nurse that problem of yours?”

“...It’s less of a problem, an’ more of a talent.”

“Yeah, whatever gives you your fun with easing the shake in your hands.”