Last night she asked how you were as your eyes rolled back,
slumped against the loveseat, leather jacket a makeshift blanket
over your barely clothed chest. She expected an answer be it
laughter, rolling off the couch, asking for water, a mindless noise even.

You stared at her. White-hot static buzzing in your brain instead
of words. A thumbs-up sufficed to say everything was okay.

She walked you home in the middle of the night, streetlight
ambiance and the cool night air of summer fading to autumn.
Despite her warnings, you said hello to the strange man wandering
but you felt he was a kindred spirit, incapable of posing a threat
because the world, though dark, was rosy pink last night.

When you stopped to sit in the grass, she stared and asked
for the third time that night if you were okay. This time
you smiled, the toothy, gum bearing smile you saved for real moments
of bliss, the smile that exposed all your teeth were straight except
those front two, one crossed over the other just slightly and you answered
I think I love her and I’m okay with that and she laughed, picked you up
by the arms and walked you home in silence.