Date NightForget the flowersMore Like This
and dinner for two,
let's spend a night in,
downing shots like the cowboys
in old Westerns,
bottles of spiced rum and vodka
clustered between us.
They'll be our centerpiece.
Instead of faking smiles
and covering awkward silences
with generic questions like
"where are you from?"
and "what do you do for a living?"
we'll giddily laugh over our
inability to form coherent sentences,
and once we've had way too much,
we'll go into sob-story mode, confessing
to the worst things we've ever done,
crying over how alone we are
and how no one understands us.
We won't be burdened by ulcer-inducing
thoughts like whether you'll call back
or if I'm good enough for your mother;
a successful night will be
staggering our way to the toilet
before we piss ourselves
and managing to not throw up
on each other. It'll be telling
the brutal but honest-to-goodness truth
without shame or inhibition
and ruminating on the stupidest shit
like the tiles on the floor
that seem to be spinning but aren