By erin (o_my_luve@hotmail.com)
Date: 28 March 2000

chronicled

Across the table
you tell me I am beautiful.
Over my third drink.
You order me another;
you pick up the tab.

"Are you drunk now?" you ask.
I respond affirmatively
  (with what I hope is a flirty giggle).
You say "good," and smile back.

I want to kiss you, but don't.

We leave in five minutes,
and pick up your girlfriend from work.

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