You are standing outside with a stony figure as I come to the house from the rain. My feet are soggy. It is warm inside. You are “so drunk that I wouldn’t even know.” You hug me and lead me around the room. Your tongue trudges slowly through your words. The piano in the corner rattles in accompaniment. A few more bottles of beer. We dance and you kiss on my neck. You are “so drunk that I wouldn’t even know.” I want to. A mixed drink without much alcohol. A few more. I see in black and white. Feel in slow motion. In bed the lights are off, so is your shirt. Awkward touches find the curly hair on your chest. The smooth skin on your back. I kiss your neck; I want to be so drunk, so that you won’t know. The night goes to sleep and occasionally snores. I am chugging anticipation. Smoldering cigarettes burn down to the filter. Upstairs someone flushes the toilet. This whole basement floods with the sound of distant waves. I drown myself in sorrow. You continue to snore.