“We” is contained

to conversations in coupes

and illegal naps

in law schools;

you stay when I’m weak

but somehow leave me weaker,

foamy chemical reaction

exiting the beaker.

The old heads cast eyes

like weighted dice;

I tell them I can’t do it twice.

One of them even cries

and tells me about the forty years

shared with his wife.

“There’s nothing remotely like that except with this guy,”

That’s a lie—

I don’t feel it, I just want to try.

The brain is a circuit board,

and someone has rewired mine—

Functional depression in a malfunctional AI;

Punctual presence for a participation prize;

Mutual distance and nostalgic side-eyes;

Future relationships all slightly compromised

because of things experienced for such a short time.

But at last, it’s fine.

You don’t inquire into the past,

never inspired to look back;

Thought we had retired all of that,

but then you watched me jump the track.

You swore you wouldn’t be a lifeline,

but you still came through every time,

and I slept in your jean jacket

after drinking all of the cult wine.