After the last call
And the subsequent lock-in
Of the second bar we'd hit
Where we'd sat doing shots
And talking Fitzgerald and Joyce
We took shelter from the downpour
Under the awning of a bodega
Out on Atlantic Avenue.

I clasped your head in my hands,
In emphasis of some joke just told
Before you passed me a poorly rolled cigarette
And I turned for a drag.

Exhaling, I felt your gaze
Penetrate through my lungs' fresh smoke
And fill me full-brimmed
Like a rush of blood.

You grabbed me then
Our faces wet with rain
And gave me the nicest kiss
I'd ever known.

Drawing away
You swore and ****** yourself
For your mistake.
I tried to ride your bike
But fell
My drunken feet entwined in the peddles.

When the rain had stopped
We sat on the hot concrete
And I tried to remember
A song that I wanted you to hear.

We pushed your bike
To the Nevins St. Subway stop
And you stood there
And watched
As I went underground
Before cycling home
Over Brooklyn Bridge.