Money Well Spent

The still night air slipping quietly around you. The rivers flow against the silence. Only us and the crickets and fireflies and the haunting fire as it crepitates through the stillness. Your lips purse as you take a sip. "This isn't sangria. "

I shake my head well aware. "You only like sangria because of the song." I say picking up my glass I look out above the ripples of Alum Ford. We've had an exceptionally stormy July and the River shows. The waterline is higher and the boat ramp is hidden beneath the deep black of her depth. I drink the wine quick and fast and I'm scolding myself in my head. But you still make me nervous and I'm still searching for a way to impress you. "it's decent, I guess. " I raise my brow and feel my lips purse. "it had better be" I laugh and refill my glass. I watch you take the bottle to your mouth and everything about who I am wants to reject it. But I can't. Something about the Armand de Brignac running freely down your chin makes me watch you. I'm hungry and drunk and the River calls me out. I want to make love to you. Too lap the Ace of Spades from your neck with my tongue to drink you inside of me.

"Will you take me home?" You say and your lips against my ear sends shivers down my spine. "Of course" I say and I'm thinking sex and drink and drugs. Until you snuggle in next to me in the truck. Your head resting peacefully in my lap as I drive...home. "you'll hold me? " it's more a drunken whisper, incoherent and high. I stroke your head and smile.

I'm not getting laid tonight and that's a $400 bottle of wine and you're in my arms.