we didn’t leave until 4 am.
told each other stories from high school
talked about religion and how it wasn’t really my thing,
and how she wasn’t really sure of her take on it,
examined our hands and compared the sizes,
discussed how she used to be a cheerleader,
our parents and their political tendencies,
and some mutual friends.

I already knew about her ex-boyfriend
through a mutual friend or two,
the self-proclaimed ******* of our generation,
trying too hard to be hip and who probably
***** himself to pictures of Kerouac and Hemingway.
all this while listening to Iron & Wine
‘cause that makes it art.

yeah. I knew about him.

and I had heard he claimed to respect women
from a couple of people.
and a couple of people told me he didn’t.
a conniving schemer disguised as a feminist,
nothing new.

I also knew about the ******* she'd
been "talking to" or some **** like that.
it didn't seem to matter much to me
or to her
so I figured that was all right.

we left the pancake joint and went back to her
place.
watched a Tarantino film and chatted about
deep topics carelessly,
exhaling want.

she shared some of her writing with me
and as morning approached
we locked arms and bodies,
her chin on my shoulder and
I snuck a kiss in her hair.
at once, our skin seemed in the way,
a barrier between us I wished to strip.

her roommate and a mutual friend
awoke and I waited while they got
ready and Lauren grabbed breakfast.

on the way out to my car,
following the two of them
I thought of past lovers and dismissed them
as I ate my heart out of my hands
and waited for my mind to settle,
but instead it rattled about all the how's
and why's of my draw.
I buried the key in the ignition,
we pulled away from away and towards
together.