We used to fight sometimes
late at night
after too many drinks
too many cigarettes
too many insults
thrown back and forth

First we’d praise each other up
then run each other down
to the lowest notch

There were good times too
But after a while they dried up
The way some things do.

Couple last screams
And I would hear some clanking in my kitchen
Didn’t pay too much attention

She’d go out with her big purse
“Should you be driving?”
“***** you”

I would go to the window
Yell down at her on the street
“Get outta here you bottle bandit!”

I didn’t want her to go
Not really
She may have been a ***** thief
But she had a sort of magic
The way some people do.

I bumped into her years later
In a liquor store
same one we used to go to
I wondered if she remembered all the fun
But the look on her face
underneath the smile
showed the pain.
The way some faces do.