”i drink and i don’t want to change
                         and this is where i am
                         and this is where i’m comfortable.”

and she said, i said,
                         this is how my parents had relationships with alcohol.
                         and i was saying
                        that this is how things are.

and she was saying something
                                                     about
                                                             being
                                                 concerned.

and i was trying to reconcile a reasonable explanation as to why she shouldn’t be worried about how much i drink.

the first time we kissed i was driving her home, drunk from the bar. and

i was saying
i was alright to drive.

her hand lingering on my thigh between the shifting of gears. we kissed more                                                                                                                                            on the floor                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          and against walls in my house, 
kittens treading lightly across our bellies.

she said she had to go home.
i said i was alright to drive. we both said goodnight across the shifting of gears.

on her 1am east coast phone to my 10pm west coast ear tonight she says,

“this isn’t fair, i’m already drunk and you’re only starting to drink.”

i lamely conjure a laugh and something not-so-witty
because i’m flustered
because i’m    already  
          pretty

                      buzzed
because,
           you know.

i say too much       to recall after      this

because,
         you know.

i ramble
on
and on
and on;

i               ramble
on and
on
and        on

because,

you
                know.

By Patrick Vittek