Questionable Aftertaste Poem by Julia Luber

And so many things that we are certain about in life. But then it comes
to the heat and sweat of a summer's day, and the questionable aftertaste
is truly in my way: of loving life, of loving you-of doing whatever it is that I do.
Now it's roll call through who did what to who.
And getting down and dirty on the bite.
Now I look into the sky and find that big old sun and wonder if it's like black and has
absorbed all the white. This after taste is doing funny things to my mind. I need to
take it down a notch and get back into my rhyme. This after taste is making me suffer
apocalyptic visions. I was trying to be good to myself, but was perhaps a tweak off precision.
Now I'm scared like it might never go away.
Like a questionable aftertaste got me pregnant
in a way. Like I'll never ever forget and never really feel like myself again.
I need some bourbon, whiskey or gin. To feel like me and then…...