2009 -- 1.2 (Spring) Poetry

You. Me. Us. by Rebecca Varley ~ep

Things seem simpler then. 
      Oh sure there were those nights of
                    passionate   young
Too many whiskeys-
        not enough pot.
      Never enough pot. 
      We partied 
      until our bodies  heaved onto mattresses.
       Voluntarily?   Involuntarily?
 Of whom?            Our own?     Yours?
       Some poor lad falling in
       love with the   unattainable? 
    Some creep who fed us drinks
        all night and offered
        rides home?
      No thanks,     we’ll walk. 
    I had you. 
                                       And you had me.
                 And we had each other.
dirt-covered.                Bleeding lungs.
      kissing games with rockstars
      we’ve danced to for years behind closed doors.
A bottle   of champagne
  and it aint no thing.
In the morning there’d be
coffee and cigarettes and
never more satiable conversation.
Never feeling more complete.