Driving Past

You drank Arnold Palmers and smoked an electronic cigarette that snaked off your laptop like a fat caterpillar’s hookah. We spent our nights watching movies or texting, delighting in clever conversation. On that tattered couch, we argued about religion for hours.


For two weeks in college I contemplated dating you. On a piece of paper, I tallied up all the reasons why it would end in heartbreak. A few days before you left for China, we shared sandwiches and grapes, sitting outside as the sun slid from view.

A real gentleman, you wanted to take me to the opera and watch me glimmer in a sequined gown. We stood under your porch light, kissing our goodbyes. You sent me a postcard, but even before you returned from your trip I knew what I had to do.

I called my high school sweetheart back and let you fade like a street sign in the rearview mirror.