Upon First Meeting
Love-drunk was a coin I had never spent,
though I could see its meaning clear enough.
I laughed at fools who begged that I repent
and sank another shot then cursed the stuff.
I seemed happy to send drinks to their deaths,
‘til a bar of all places staged our meeting.
I spoke best I could between taken breaths;
to crack that smile was simply cheating.
Time skipped by, how it appears to relish
to deny one’s requests for fun to drag.
Nerves kept threatening to throw chips and fish
and trade them with butterflies in a bag.
Love-drunk was a coin I had never spent
for in love I had taken only sips,
But then the room span, and I passed out bent
the very moment you passed my lips.
Arron Palmer is an economist whose body is twenty-two years old and lives in Leicester but whose mind is approaching forty-five and is currently unable to be located. He is working towards publishing his first collection February Belle & Other Short-Lived Poems, and his work can be found online at apalmerpoetry.