There was nothing to be done
except to kiss the drunk girl
hoping now she would let us
take her home
a place I remembered
so vaguely from high school
it shocked even you.

We drove through
the beginnings of snow
wheels crunching along the street
and you smiling as we left
the first tracks
in the sleeping subdivision.

The joy of being together,
but sort of alone
in your maroon Buick that
I’ve forgotten the name of
with your soon to be
suicidal girlfriend
passed out in the back seat.

It certainly wasn’t that bad.
You hadn’t started walking
through the cemetery yet,
circling around your own plot
touching the marker
saying, not soon enough.
The snow softly protesting
under your cowboy boots.

previously published in Poet’s Basement