Flower Fortune- Sweetbriar: Poetry and fragrance.

My friend is twenty-three, lives in London, goes clubbing every night. She told me it is all hookah bars and pink drinks and suited men with sunglasses in the dark. What is it like, I asked her.

It isn't the freedom you would expect, she said, I do it because I like the attention. If I were the wind, I'd be stale.

I wish I were the wind, sometimes, stale or not.

I remember when Rev, Harry, and I were young and we went to bars and didn't need IDs because my dresses were short. It was so fun to be alive then, holding drinks much bigger, much bolder and important than you. After closing time and the dancing, there would be random food. Chicken kebabs or syrupy pancakes or mashers mixed with ketchup. Sometimes it would be sweets or popcorn or bowls of hot soup.

Would I be stale now? Old and married and without any adequate clothing. Maybe, once you can legally get in, the fun goes away.

I miss my home, sometimes.