She slept on her couch, was still there
in the morning, wrapped in a blanket
and hugging her little dog. She mumbled
something about coffee, gestured
toward the kitchen. I was stirring
in some sugar when she turned down
the tv, and yelled out that she’d called
a limo service to take me to the airport,
they’d be here in about an hour or so,
I’d better shower and pack. Then she turned
the tv up even louder than before.
The day before we’d been drinking heavy
at her brother’s birthday party, ended
up after dark real wasted out in the woods
with a bunch of people I didn’t know.
She grabbed a blanket and a bottle
of wine, took me off by the hand
behind some trees where she started
kissing me. I wanted to kiss her back,
but I felt too drunk or something,
just laid there real still trying to hold
her tight enough to maybe stop time itself,
but it was no good. She pulled herself on top
of me, pushed down hard on my shoulders.
When the hell are you going to ask me to marry you?
she asked in the same voice she used with her dog
when he peed on the carpet. Can you please
just tell me when you’re going to get around to it?
I wanted so badly to tell her, but by then she was sitting
on my chest and I could barely breathe.
-David J. Thompson, from Grace Takes Me