late nights at the arclight
I light a cigarette backwards.
This is when I know maybe the two cadillac margaritas I have had are enough to drink. I disregard this and order another. My friend does not. She has to drive. I do not. I can be reckless.
Our waiter does not approve. He hated us when we arrived. Decided he liked us, maybe adored us, after our first convo. Now is disapproving since he has to add a third drink to my tab. Uh oh.
Not too reckless — I do not order four. But reckless enough to order three.
We are talking about things metaphysical. Things people think make you weird. [They do.] Things she and I think make us human. [They do.] And awake. [They do that too.]
I really like this friend.
I drink my third drink.
Then we go home.
We even leave a nice tip for the judgmental waiter.