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I could feel her smooth calves touching mine
beneath the table.

The tiki torches were lit
and the smell of
the grill
wafted about
as we all sat and
talked about nothing.

A table full of Canucks–most
of them grad students,
and me on a
Friday night in Toronto.

I’d decided to stay
an extra night to
hang out with her
and her nice,
but unremarkable friends.

I was starting to think
that we’d found a good
stopping point
when her little
hand ran across my thigh
and my palm
caressed her arm.

(Goosebumps!!!)

She grabbed
the meat of my
thigh
and asked if I’d like
another beer.

I gave her
a quick nod
and wink
and finished off
the last
of the bottle
I already had.

Unaware that the
worst was yet
to come,
all the
depressingly
terrible
things we’d do
and say
to each other
in the months ahead.

She went back in
to the kitchen
closing the door
behind her,
while
the evening
grew
darker
and the people
we’d turn into
became less
and less
far away.

~Edward Austin Robertson