take me to that great date spot, that place that is warm and probably expensive and that no one knows quite yet, including you, that area inside where those childhood memories of sitting sunlight and strawberry winters stay, where there is the punchline of a joke you memorized to tell to the right people, where the wrong people were, running and wrecking and carving out a larger hole, one that nearly took the whole of you, that i see now reflecting in your eyes, blinking a little too long, looking away for longer than that.
over bloody meat, you laugh, ask for the bill. i say it is paid. then you mumble how it was fun, but there are other things to do and dig into.
like a caesar?
i am not thirsty.