I guess there wasn’t a way
this wouldn’t have happened

when I show up late
to a party where everyone
has done shots since midafternoon

with three soft taco party paks
thirty-four little packages
of squishy deliciousness

someone will always, every
single time, get the idea
to get out the sports equipment

but this time it’s not baseball
Jack Weisinger from two blocks
over rummages through
the host’s closet and brings out
two lacrosse sticks

and before long the kitchen,
the family room, and the patio
are all covered in sour cream-
smeared beef, tomato, and lettuce

and I slip out before anyone
notices I’m gone and eat the other
two on my way home,
a smile on my face

————

Robert Beveridge (he/him) makes noise (xterminal.bandcamp.com) and writes poetry on unceded Mingo land (Akron, OH). Recent/upcoming appearances in Sideways, The Green Silk Journal, and The Serulian, among others.