here's your tip. bartender.

goddamn, that vodka felt so good sliding down my throat. in the middle of the bar, i felt so good. dancing around like a jackass, and laughing at anything and everything. i wasn't the only one because we all know that the bar is the place for things like this. my lips tasted like cranberry juice and my eyes were so heavy, but fuck...it felt so damn good. i had a flower in my hair and when i spun around, it fell out somewhere. that flower was so important to me right then. i had to find it, although it was already wilted and dead. bending on the hardwood floor, reaching for some small weed, laughing so hard because i knew i looked a fool. i reached a little further and another hand grazed mine. i stopped laughing and looked up because it startled me. after he helped me to stand up again, he handed me my dead flower. said he saw it fall and wanted me to have it back. my beer goggles said he was attractive, but i know better. i said thank you and went out into the courtyard. he smelled of irish spring, i remember, because that man soap is my favorite, and he hadn't shaved in a couple of days...my weakness. before i left, he brushed my hair back and put the flower back in its place. i stood there, straining to focus on his face, and when he asked my name, i said thank you and walked outside. he yelled back "it was nice meeting you, thank you." i never saw him again that night. i had a few more drinks when i knew i shouldn't because that is life, and i fell asleep that night wondering where people like that came from. it's weird how sometimes you meet people throughout your life; maybe you know them for years, maybe you know them for hours, or maybe you never know them at all. but the ones you hardly remember....for me, those are the ones that often affect me the greatest. it's strange how things happen, and perhaps it wasn't even about the irish spring or the 5 o'clock shadow. perhaps it was the hand slightly moving my hair, or the coarse fingers just barely grazing my cheeks. i can still feel it. and no one's touched me in a year and a half. some days i wish to crash into people to know that i'm still alive and i can still feel. and that night i was reminded that you don't need some big explosion of touch, or some firecracker of feeling. the smallest little touch in the right place can haunt you for days. he doesn't know me. i don't know him. i'll never see him again, but i owe him a thank you for bringing me back. i kept the flower and have it pressed in a dictionary mixed in with the letter "N."


i'm feeling more alive today.