Could I have had the sex I didn't? Would

who I kissed in jest I not? Why wash my

hands only to pick my nose? Meaningless

grins puzzle strangers dancing; imbalance

is exposed, flooding last night’s turgid span.

Wry vomit rose: To never see someone 

again, never especially to know 

someone really or to hug whenever 

saying goodbye. At least I scored. We'd tried 

again but felt it foreign as early

inebriation explored... Nostalgia

is a heavy vest, a failure of touch: 

   Tests of human friendship are the domain

   of tomorrow but today, not so much.