Wednesday, May 16, 2018

Fictional Love Story #8

Walk up to the bar.
This was a mistake.  Stupid, so stupid.
Stand and stare pointedly at the bartender.
My shirt has a stain on it, and I hate my hair.
Order gin and tonic, ice but no lemon.
If I’m lucky, he’s not going to show.
Find a small empty table for two at the back of the room.
He probably won’t recognize me.
Sip gin and tonic through the tiny little straw.
Not after all this time and fifty extra pounds.
Clutch the wet cocktail napkin in my hand.
I wonder if my heart will thrum like it used to,
like the wings of a panicked bird.
Crane my neck at the TV that is playing sports news with no sound.
I remember how I always used to laugh too loud.
Scroll unthinkingly through my Facebook feed on my phone.
I used to fall over all the time when he was near.
Glance nervously at the door.
I could finish this drink and leave while I’m still ahead.
Close my eyes and exhale.

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