Going Away Party

Todd from accounting

was leaving for Denver, so.

The bar had a floor in the back

and by eleven most of us were on it.

I don't know the song.

Something with a lot of bass

and a woman's voice

I wouldn't have chosen.

Two drinks past caring

what I looked like,

which is apparently all it takes.

My arms were wrong.

I could see them in the bar window—

my reflection off-beat by a full count,

doing something with my hands

that no one else was doing.

I kept going.

Not because it felt good exactly.

More like I'd stopped

running the numbers—

the small constant math

of how I appear to people

I'll see Monday.

Todd leaves for Denver.

The floor cleared eventually.

I drove home with the radio up

and my arms still doing that thing

at the wheel.