The time to go home
has been now.
—John
Ashbery
At the party the chuckles were
contagious; but the laughter
was infectious. We
thought
that was okay.
However,
an hour or so after we get
home, I’m told that I should
shut the bedroom window
whenever I laugh.
People
have happy dreams, I say.
Ok ok, he says. My
hand
is cramped into the
American Library’s
Anthology of American
Poetry, Twentieth
Century, Volume I.
Friday after
shopping around a bit,
Otto gave me a haircut.
Then we met up
with Mr. Empty
(nicknamed so because
his bottle or drinking
glass always is) who
proceeded to buy us
a bunch of drinks.
We drank fast at his
request and danced
for a couple of hours.
Drunk, we kept
fielding requests for
smooches (we said ‘of
course’), and a very tall
older guy (not so much a
gentleman) basically
dance-humped us
for hours til we
piled into a cab and
immediately passed out.
