Caramel

Tonight I went to a sports bar and watched New Zealand play Slovakia in the Football World Cup. It was a 1-1 draw. I only had one aim of the evening: to consume my first jager-bomb. My girlfriend bought us one each and I decided not to drink mine until the first goal was scored, or til half-time, whichever came first. At the forty five minute mark I dropped the brownish syrupy shot into the glass of half-flat red bull and drank it in two goes because it was delicious.
On the walk home everything looked so odd and great. I pulled out my camera and its battery was dead, of course. I wish I could describe it well enough. So geometrically pleasing. I was wearing glasses that made the world a collage of 2D cut-outs: pictures of buildings, lines, windows, drains, beams and frames pasted onto a black background for my eyes to see. Buildings are perfect. Ramps that lead to fenced off alleyways and doors in the middle of nowhere whose keyholes probably allow entry to some great hallway that smells of recently cut wood. The air was cold but it didn't get past my duffel coat into my Surfers Paradise t-shirt, only touched my cheeks and dampened my shoulders.
As I turned onto my street I closed my eyes and imagined what it would be like to walk down a street in Brooklyn: narrow brick houses, the sound of cars braking, the smell of cumin and greenhouse-skin scent of tomatoes from a corner grocers. I opened my eyes inches from a lamp-post. This is what happens when you watch too many movies.
I ought not fantasize.