Poetry Slam Tuesdays: "Cocaine"

For this week's poetry slam, your featured poet is ... me. Eek!

I wrote this poem several years ago, and man, was I infatuated with this stupid guy who didn't give a crap about me (Abbs, you know who!).

I blame the jukebox at Crazy Horse (and being 22). He just had to play Van Morrison and wink at me. God dammit. Gets me every time. Men playing my favorite tunes on the jukebox. Needless to say, infatuation ended shortly after I wrote this poem.

I mostly just like the last stanza, but reading this poem, I remember this evening perfectly.

And I wouldn't go back to it for anything.

Cocaine


I watched you,
in my haze of infatuation and booze,
as you snorted your precious powder.

I watched you,
and convinced myself
that you’d need me more
I declined—
meanwhile, you alternated
bending over that table
pushing filth up your nose
and leaning into me
with your misleading embraces.

I didn’t need it
I clutched my goblet
of cheap white wine
and smiled,
content with your proximity.

You were my cocaine
but to you,
I was only the table.