A Sexy Mistake Poem by Robin Bennett

It just sounds better when I call the night a
a sexy mistake. I'm hardly a fixture
in the bar scene these days, so I acted
the part. Looking well heeled and oozing
false sophistication, I placed my age at thirty-two.

Dressed in black Dior, (compliments of my
ex-husband) complete with matching handbag
from some swanky French town I could no
longer afford to visit, I put myself on display.
Feeling very Helen of Troy like, I waited
to launch a ship or two.

Stale smoke covered the ceiling and cloaked
the vultures circling above. Soon I was covered
in filthy offers all promising a good time. An absurdly
dressed man offered to buy me an old fashioned.
Imagine, me and those words mentioned
in the same sentence. The irony made me
laugh hysterically.

I'm more of a straight shooting
tequila girl really. Drink, lick, squirt.
I thrive on high octane and quick payoffs.
Soon the tequila had me as warm as a
Mexican sunrise. A giant watermelon
sun pounded it's flares against what was
left of my pickled brain.

I awoke with cotton mouth for days and
painfully sober. Sad, my memory was
fully intact.