Two days after I recall it all,
embroidered in my
brain like a bad tattoo,
never to get removed,
had I wanted to,
where she/we/they sat and
the crispness of the bar,
the bartender,
and the couple from
God knows where
seated side by side
with us,
the same place we came once before,
later, darker, inside
rather than out,
not Paris, although she wore blue,
maybe the couple from Eastern Europe,
we, from just up the block,
the eerie sense of Deja Vu
as if I should have known
what would come to
pass,
how I acted already drunk,
like a giddy bride,
a birthday boy,
a bumbling idiot with card and candy
she thought I was
crazy to bring
since this was my
belated
birthday bash not hers,
destined to become a
disappointment,
all of the gin joints
etc,
and yet, I felt like Rick
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