The party air got thin enough to crack

The party air got thin enough to crack,

so I walked out and didn't once look back.

The yellow sign reflected in the muck,

a stroke of greasy, late-night luck.

The driver took the long way past the cranes,

the meter ticking like a pulse in veins.

I realized then, three miles from the door,

my keys are on the kitchen's granite floor.

I didn't tell him to turn the car around.

I watched the red digits gain their ground,

climbing like a fever in the dark,

while we circled the perimeter of the park.