I constantly threaten to pick
a random name from the “guy jar”
but never do.
The promise of free food and drinks loses
to hanging with Crystal and company
again and again,
and after all
there is no such thing as free.
We go out to a dive bar
that doesn’t card.
As I raise my lighter
to one of my slims,
a deep voice
behind my ear says,
“You can’t smoke here.”
Annoyed, I gesture
to the lightning bug field of lit cigarettes
turn into
a grinning face, handsome features
beauty mark on forehead
as if drawn on by a
Sharpie saying
this one might be
The One.