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A hurricane large as the eastern seaboard

Shut the whole damn city down

Tunnels were flooded

The seawall was breached

It was all anyone could do

Just to stay home and wait


There was a crane

Dangling off of a high rise

Our office was barred off for a week

The night of the storm

We camped in the living room, cookies in hand


And that’s how I learned to get drunk

By the glow of my smartphone


Three years later, we’d moved in together

Five years in the making, still too soon

Two days after that you went in for surgery

The anesthesia didn’t agree with you


We couldn’t share a bed

In the event that my tossing

Might knock your new stitches out

I slept on the couch

Surrounded by boxes

And six packs

And gin


An expert by now at being drunk

By the glow of my smartphone


I told myself that it helped me to be serene

When you were home

But once you got back

Didn’t need an occasion

For me to just keep on going


The leaves finally turn

A new man at a bar

Tells me that he never moves this fast

Invites me upstairs

But asks me to wait while he cleans up his room

I try not to notice the sound

Of bottles rolled under the bed

And the smell of old red

That I know all too well

Before we start kissing

There’s time for a glass of whatever’s around


At least we’re both good at being drunk

By the glow of our smartphones

How dull to be drunk

By the glow of our smartphones

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