“Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be,” I think,
as you're passed out on the floor,
drunk and laughing - a smile here, a wink
there; pleading for a drink or two more.
I don’t know if you realized how
idiotic you looked - buckling knees and slurred
speech. I’m hoping that you understand now
why I had to leave that night. I heard
that Andy had to carry you all the way back
home, because you could barely stand.
He told me you tried to grope some girl in black
and that the bar’s got you banned --
but I didn’t really care about what he had to say;
I only asked to make sure you got home okay.
