That Kind of Night

Notes and outgoing calls. Things people said and things I thought of. Too many texts, too many true things. That was the kind of night it was. Not the kind you plan for because can you really? You're out with a couple friends and suddenly you've met the owner of a Mexican restaurant and he's passing out tequila shots. Not the kind you shoot, the kind you sip, the good stuff. And you always have one in your hand because he keeps passing them out, his restaurant is doing very well. Flashes of things you said to pretty girls, you liked her coat, it was like a cool Santa Claus coat, and your friend said you're blowing it but that's all you wanted to say. Can't a guy compliment a girl on her coat without wanting anything in return? The place has changed, it's not how you remember it, the music is louder, the people are more. Everything starts to wash together and suddenly you're in a loft in SoHo. The car home is going to cost a lot, you didn't attract anyone and you're not crashing here, you think these guys, they might like you a little too much. But it's OK, everyone is living and alive. And if you keep drinking water and stay up just a little longer you might not feel like dying. You might even see the sun rise.