Tuesday, November 18, 2008

chunky jazz hands

life's full of firsts. first step, first word, first kiss (mine being an extraction of vital tonsil tissue - a process so unpleasant, so "un-hot" that I vowed never to repeat it). tonight I experienced a new first. a first spray of vomit. chunky jazz hands shooting out of the mouth of a babe. my man, jg, who first took a sip of alcohol at the age of 33, took a new step into intoxicated adulthood tonight - highway to the danger zone, the one-too-many punch. we walked home from margarita madness. bobbing and weaving. I turned around to witness the beauty of expelled excess - my friends, it was beautiful. the violent spray of intoxication backlit by city traffic, the splatter of a bad idea bouncing off the front lawn of strangers. poetry in motion. congratulations. you. are. drunk.

I was torn. my love was in distress. but I was transfixed. mesmerized by the making of history. in the midst of the the last liquid burst, his shaking hands held out the peace sign. I knew he was okay. he was better than okay. he too knew, something special had taken place - the awkward or the extraordinary - our firsts are as important as our lasts. I felt lucky to have been a part of something bigger than us. the process of discovering.

1 comment:

miss clover said...

so i have to know...is he ever going to drink again? that first puke is so brutal.