i carried these words on my fingertips
waiting for the girl in the green dress
to light her cigarette.
we finished the bottle, tossed it to the side
and we walked back into the crowded restaurant.

she kept her white gloves on,
shoved everyone aside with one hand,
pulling me behind her with the other.
all i remember after that
was dizzy laughter.

and that i had to go to the bathroom again.

i sat across from you tonight at dinner.
her drunk squeal made me laugh,
you nervously accepted the obligatory hand squeeze.
i pull away again
excusing myself with a cigarette.

i call home to see how they felt before their show,
i felt like a guilty mother
missing her son's big gig.
no answer.

having no one to speak to,
i listened carefully to the noise around me,
started singing a song
then though about what you said.
i remember the sound of your voice
when your optimism turned against you.

rewards will follow, i promise.

i find myself smoking this cigarette alone again
and find comfort in the rain clouds quickly passing
as this reverb rattles my skin.