by Mike Munsil
100 words
She rides me – as always, this time of day – and it's time for a rumcola, it is. She drapes herself over my shoulder, braces her hind feet on my hand and swipes at the fanchain. I reach for the Brugal, canejuicy, dark and sweet like that maid - that girl hardly older than me - and ohsogood. Dark, like her. She rides me, still.
Lime, quick quick! Spill over the ice. Pool in dark rum, fizzz with cola. Umm.
She watches from her perch, wrinkles her nose, sneezes disdain, digs in her claws. Vulturey, she rides me.
The bottle is almost empty.
Mike was born in Chile, raised in Panama, and now lives in Texas. He has published poetry and creative non-fiction in a variety of places online and in print. Someday he will learn how to write weller, and then watch out! It'll be badass Bunnahabhain time, baby!
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