Tuesday, May 18, 2010

Christmas Eve 2009

We drank Veuvue Cliquot in my bed,
Your breath stank.
And I was still upset with you for ripping my Dior jacket,
The night before.

After the champagne was gone,
I finished your warm glass of Ketel One,
Left over from,
The night before.

You laughed, clapped me on the back and said,
“That’s why I love you.”
I shrugged and replied,
“It’s not like vodka goes bad.”

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