Last Night on Earth

Last Night on Earth
by Pat A Physics
You were laughing with your hair in your face, and I felt quite handsome
in my pressed suit. Walking aimlessly in our party clothes, we danced
for an interval. The littlest part of an evening was our detour through
a park of spongy grass. It was Tennessee moisture, that had to be the
title of the painting, if one were painted. We never bought drinks, people
had always brought around a tray and offered them with no check. Even
in the parking lot, we were drinking champagne and lighting sparklers.
I used a few of your cigarettes as insurance for my state of mind. You
didn’t get angry when I stepped on your toes. What made you angry was
far from your mind. The cars were driving in swerving formations in the
street. We cheered them on with our fists clenched and our drinks spilling.
You looked as happy as anyone could be, but your mind was made up
to go to sleep. And I had to leave because nobody could give me a ride
except for my family. You touched my shoulder and took me to a bench.
We looked at the ground for some moments, and then you told me that
you loved to watch sports on television.

Leave a Reply