I met her at a dive bar,

Throwback Thursday.

Eyes the color of whiskey, 

hair like black velvet.

She smiled at me, “Hungry Like the Wolf”

blasting in the background 

and I was too eager to be her prey.

I offered to buy her a drink 

and five martinis later,

I would have offered her the world.

In a voice like magic, she invited me 

back to her place, put me under her spell.

In the morning, I stumbled out of bed

and saw in the mirror 

a reflection of my indiscretion.

I found my cell phone, dialed “Morgan”

and begged for answers.

She whispered, still half drunk,

“You said a kiss for the toad.”

“A kiss for the road,” I croaked.

“A kiss for the road!”

Laughter like a wolf’s midnight howl.

Lisa Lerma Weber likes to howl at the moon. Her words and photography have appeared online and in print. Follow her on Twitter @LisaLermaWeber.