warm beer and cigarettes
Your mouth tasted like warm beer and cigarettes and I couldn’t help feeling sad every time you came close to me searching for inebriated carnal touch. I slipped away but finally gave in and as we kissed I wondered what kind of poem would this moment give birth to? would it be a joyful description of a happy day ending in tragedy, like Tarkovsky would do? or rather a kavafian blend of desire and nostalgia ως ταιριαζα πολυ? but your mouth tasted bitter like warm beer and cigarettes and nauseated I unraveled my body from your body deciding that whatever poem would sprout I was not willing to write it.
