I was with you for the first time in months and I was drunk.  I drank before I went to your house.  I sat on the bus with my friend and a man gave us candy.  I think he had Downs so we smiled and said thank you and then put them in our pockets, and as far as I know they’re still in our pockets.  

We showed up at your house an hour and a half later than the latest time I said we’d get there.  Then we drank more and eventually your friend came and we left your friend with my friend and went to get Coke to mix with the rum.  

I felt like you were thinking of us as a couple.  I tried to convince myself I was holding my liquor and I wasn’t going to say or do anything to encourage you.

It felt like we were a couple and it was fucked up.

You wanted to get two two litre bottles because they were on sale.  I paid.   I didn’t really care.  You tried to put one in your pocket.  That was a stupid idea; it never would have fit.

I can’t really remember going home.  I know I got in a cab with my friend and we left.  I must have crashed at her house.  I was probably angry with you; I always left feeling angry with you or guilty, except once, when we sat on your roof to watch the sun set.  That time I left wondering if maybe we should have been together.  But we won’t be.

We won’t be because I won’t let it happen and I don’t know why.