Under the Influence

A poem about a first meeting

I don’t quite know how, but I certainly know when. Beneath the dull light of the ceiling, it was that moment then. When he’d walked through the doorway, unfamiliar, unknown. Who’d have ever thought that one day — he’d be home.

He sat in the chair opposite, grinned at me and said, “That tequila shot I had at home has gone straight to my head.” He told me his name, I lobbed over my heart. Queen of hearts to be exact. Then I winked and said, “you start.”

We played into the nighttime, our friends on either side. Waltzing into the centre of town, a bounce within our stride. I didn’t know it yet, not on the surface of things at least, But — if life is full of bumpy roads — then he was my piste.

Together, I don’t know, we just glided. Floating through the air. Maybe gravity pulls a little lighter when you split your heart and share. And now I’m certain, without I doubt, I know for a fact, I’m sure. The boy who turned up drunk one day — he intoxicated me more.