I remember milk in the yellow kitchen
I remember lemonade on the corner
I remember Dr. Pepper at the pool
I remember orange juice on the bridge
I remember Gatorade at the finish line
I remember vodka in the dorm bathroom
I remember cappuccino at the piazza
I remember mulled wine in the cold winter's snow
I remember Guinness in the basement, folk music stomping overhead
I remember chai outside the orange clay hut, flies and chickens and the wealth of "poverty"
I remember calimochos at the beach, with tank tops and sunburns and girl talk and dancing
I remember Silver Moon amber and the poetry slam, leaving early when the words hurt
I remember cab-sauv at the vineyard with an extra bottle for the cab driver
I remember Cruzan rum in the car just because it was legal
I remember lime sparkling water on the porch, the dog panting, and looking, and time standing still
I remember rice wine in the village, Naxi women playing cards
I remember lattes in mugs late in the morning, writing, and wondering...
I remember water half-frozen at my head and waking up on the ground
I remember the sips, the gulps, the burns, chokes and spills, the bitter, the sweet, the satisfaction and fizzes, the quenches and slakes and
I remember drinking it all in


