maybe if i go to the bathroom and make myself throw up i can leave
or i can feel something other than
being so close to you, unable to touch your arm.
the fridge door opens and closes. your eyes stay averted. the memory of a
summer breeze brushes past my cheek.
i don't miss you, not really --
i miss riis beach and i miss the dance club and i miss the fog machine
and i miss everything i can do, feasibly, on my own,
but in a strange turn of events i don't know how to go.
ice hits dull in a red solo cup, a bottle of whiskey opens and closes.
chlorine-stinking bleach in the bathroom.
humans seek another one out, we need to,
we cannot survive without each other.
pack animals - herd immunity - mob mentality.
i can ruin this night if i want to, but i don't really want to.
i tell you good to see you --
you say nothing. you leave the party and go home alone.
[GO HOME]