The moon is close enough to touch
but we’re mostly concerning ourselves with the wine table.

Your sister’s boyfriend is telling stories
about his missions trip to a country with a z in the name.

He nods and tucks his hair a lot,
and I’m struggling to think of a question that makes me sound interested.

I’m listening to an argument taking place near the tv
when someone offers me a small plastic cup.

“Here, drink this. It will make you feel like a security guard
who is constantly searching for a better parking spot.”

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