i.  it’s happy hour friday night time for small talk   i lace up combat boots  zip my slight self into a lycra  knockoff   doesn’t matter which one as long as i shimmer   ii.   later in the back  of everyone-knows- my-name bar my dress           seams screaming   black buttons       between breastbones burst blacker   wish they were less                         breakable   sees you   iii.   on cue i join you grab a shoulder              the one not offered   espy erasers on ends of chopsticks  eating sushi    words spill  from cheap plastic cups  splintering between us   forgetting we are no longer we   i ask if erasing me was as easy  as swallowing the shrimp roll  no one erased you—  we stopped writing you  in ink  couldn’t be certain who was going to show up    sad mandy   manic mandy   as if i had any more choice  than sunset has a choice  not to slam the door  on daylight    iv.   i wait for you to digest   mix saltwater in my martini  so i can wash down  voyeuristic views knowing more than my shrink    your eyes jump  across the teetering cocktail table   pluck paper from some soggy fortune cookie dripping mayo clinic wisdom,             stop existing like this             stop gratifying sadness .… Read More “I KEEP ASKING MY LITTLE BLACK DRESS WHY SHE IS CRYING UNTIL SHE SLAPS ME by Andi Kaufman Horowitz”