Last Night

Went drinking with Randy last night–

woke up in a jumble,

the jazz silences I bought

with my snooze button

reminding me it was worth it,

wandering the streets of uptown

in a bourbon haze

that made everything just a shimmer-glimmer

brighter, the grafitti more artistic.

Our waiter at the Redeye Diner flirted

unabashadly with me,

gave us illegally generous pours

of Jim Beam (better than Jack).

A fresh, intact coconut cake

winked at me from the dessert case

and a piece came home with me.

After I climbed the stairs to my bedroom,

I lit my candles, my incense,

turned on my moon lights

and ceiling projector, filled my tub

with deliciously steamy water

and helichrysum,

striking myTibetan healing bowls

before sliding into the water

with a sigh, watching the light patterns

on my ceiling, which my daughter

will not paint for me this Christmas,

maybe never. I gaze at my degree

and hold some rocks–celestite,

lapis, amethyst–to ground me

here in the water

in space with two moons.