It was when their love felt institutional that he interrupted dinner and announced his intentions, and she said, Because I served leftovers?
Twisters
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Then the wind picked up and it started to rain. We scrambled to get the picnic covered and she lamented the waste. I let the quiche get wet.
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We are friends in the social media sense. We can walk by each other without recognition. But I love her delicate hands. She’s posted photos.
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We were lost, not physically, but in our own manner, we felt it physically however, I felt it in my toes for example, but I’m weird that way.
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We decided to act like men. It was unwritten. I yelled, Beer! We rumbled across the street. Invaded a bar. Drank. Plundered. Paid our bills.
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And then she slapped me with my belt and I learned something about myself then and I thanked her, and I understood that pain made me hungry.
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I got stomach flu from dim sum and I called up the restaurant and got into an argument about gunpowder because the Chinese guy held a grudge.
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I cover the bed in flowers, in reds and oranges, and she calls and says, I have to work late again, and I pump my fist, and turn on the game.
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We did not hold back in any way at the all-you-can-eat buffet and then for dessert she chose some fruit, and we broke up in the parking lot.
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I say, It’s too much lavender, because it is. She says, I don’t trust guys who know what lavender smells like. So we’re stuck in a bad place.
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