Saturday, March 2, 2013


My boyfriend is laying on my bedroom floor,
facedown. Like a tired puppy. It's Friday at 5:50 after all.
I am standing in my closet
also like a dog. Because I have to change out of running shorts
because I have to go to the theatre
(accentuated R-E).
"How cold do you think it will get?" I ask.
"High of 50s," he says into the carpet.
"So I should wear pants," I grumble, then
counter, "Maybe
I'll just wear a,
I'll regret it. BEAT. I'll just wear
stupid pants."
And the dogfriend barks:
"Don't wear pants."
"...But why?"
"Because you don't want to!"
And I don't!