MY MINUTES

MY MINUTES
she called me up on the phone
the day after a big party over at her place
“you know you were eating meat last night, right?”
“no, I wasn’t.”
“well, some people said you were.”
“well, most people are idiots, babe.
and the ones who aren’t idiots
are usually assholes.”
“well, maybe that’s why you threw up
this morning, remember?”
I scoffed
then snorted
“do you not remember living with me
for two and a half years?”
“yeah, but…”
“remember how I threw up every single morning?”
“not every morning.”
“maybe not, but most. And it wasn’t
because I was sneaking meat, babe.”
I took a pull from my beer
steering the car with my knee
“I gotta go, okay?”
“what are you doing?”
I finished my beer and tossed the empty can
into the back seat with the rest of them
I didn’t know where I was going
or where I’d been
and I wasn’t one of those assholes
who claimed I was in it for the ride
“nothing,” I said to her,
looking at the call timer on my phone,
“I just don’t wanna use up all my minutes.”