My sweat from the crowded street was drying.
Trash-music played shamefully in the city.
I was thirsty.
The sounds of ice hitting each other reached into me.
The sweetness in the glass stuck in my throat.
I cannot mature yet.
The alcohol inebriated my head.
And took away the outlines I could see.
When I realized it, the night was well along.
I'd better get to bed soon tonight.
You said, "something really good happened that day."
My flat drink taught me about the passage of time.