5.30 Last Call

I am drunk when I tell her

the truth about the lyric tattooed
on my wrist.

In truth, I am drunk when
I tell most of my truths.

Another secret, another piece
of me that was my own is gone
forever.

It does not matter that she is drunk too,
that she will more thank likely forget the
conversation.  I am the one always trying to fill
the silence with secrets, to distract from the things
we are really thinking of--

the way silence consumes, like winter, the way it
reminds us of all our empty sockets, blank spaces,
unreturned phone calls. 

I say we should go get tattoos.  We finish
out drinks, close the tab.  Prepare to create
new memories,
          new distractions.