_{For Lauren}

How are Adam and Eve, Lauren asks.

They’re great, hanging above my espresso machine.

We drink bubbles from vintage hollow stems – 

Amaro accented by curls of lemon peel, air redolent with laughter

We finger small plates of crudo and charred octopus.

This is the last time I’ll eat a friend.

I wipe my hands on thick paper towels, a rose bud on each –

Grateful for the complimentary tampons, the radical hospitality.

Such perfectly pinched samosas and

Chocolate peanut butter mousse served in shot glasses. 

I sink, wrist deep, into the dry sponge of a Goodnight Moon buttercream cake. 

We hitch our skirts above our knees and pee on Duke campus in the evening just before a significant concert in the chapel.

I didn’t realize how shocking this was – the university, so conservative. 

Oh, to micturate wherever I please like a man on the side of a road –  

Marking our territory on these manicured grounds but really

Delighting in such divine release, our nitrogen collected by horizons below.