There was nothing to be doneexcept to kiss the drunk girlhoping now she would let ustake her homea place I rememberedso vaguely from high schoolit shocked even you.
We drove throughthe beginnings of snowwheels crunching along the streetand you smiling as we leftthe first tracksin the sleeping subdivision.
The joy of being together,but sort of alonein your maroon Buick thatI’ve forgotten the name ofwith your soon to besuicidal girlfriendpassed out in the back seat.
It certainly wasn’t that bad.You hadn’t started walkingthrough the cemetery yet,circling around your own plottouching the markersaying, not soon enough.The snow softly protestingunder your cowboy boots.
(previously published in Poet’s Basement)