Missing a Poem

I was defenseless,
she handed me a margarita
in one hand, guacamole and chips
in the other, followed by another
and home made sopapillas and
another, and well, I only
had permission to drink this way
because my home was across
the street and no one was at
risk, but myself.
I admit I collapsed on the
bed, eyes out of focus, a bit,
only a bit, but the headache
rolled in and my fingers, nor my
mind, work very well, so poetry did
not flow. I paid later for being remiss,
a worsening headache,
that middle of the night
tummy ache.
In the morning, I asked S why
he let me drink that much.
He just looked at me funny
and wandered off.
ok, I was in full
control and it
was fun.