It is like a movie.
I am in my fur coat and red lipstick.
I come to the kitchen for more wine.
He is there smoking a cigarette.
With his body inside for warmth.
Hand outside to ash.
He tells me that I look sexy.
He tells me that I lost a lot of weight.
I have him pour me a glass of wine.
And I only say thank you.
And mention that I live with my boyfriend.
And the other tells the wine pourer that I am most likely in need of more.
I foresaw all of this.
But speaking of the real him.
I wish he was here.
He is beautiful.
His body is beautiful.
And now I am wodering if he would understand it here.
The Russian music.
The clapping hands.
The obnoxious drunken comments.
We laugh at them here.
And don't think of them in the morning.
But he is fresh to this.