Two white, plastic lawn chairs. Ten dollars each
in the section beside the grocery store check out.
I carry them all the way home and I paint them
with glitter glue, not knowing that it will not withstand
the rain which comes later. One says DIVA
and one says NYMPH and they are so alive, I’m so
alive. Still depressed but nothing can stop me.
I’ve decided we’re gonna have a picnic but it’s dark
when Becca gets to my apartment, late summer,
the sun sets after 8, we eat at the kitchen table instead
and drink red wine because I’m 21 and Pop’s Liquor Store
has a 2/10$ Wine Display right inside the front door.
I watch Becca’s face as the wine goes down her throat,
she looks miserable, like maybe she hasn’t really ever
tasted 5$ wine before but I don’t want to acknowledge
the look on her face in case maybe mine is doing the same
thing. We get drunk fast, stumble downtown, smoking
cigarettes and I guess Becca has her guitar, because
I’m listening to her play a song on the dark steps
of The Northampton Hotel before we step into the
convenience store and ask if they sell liquor because
the liquor store is already closed for the night but
the answer is obviously no
because Massachusetts is still fucking pristine ass
fucking pilgrim ass Massachusetts
and then we smoke and walk around shit talk and
in that moment, that’s friendship ya know?