i.
Have you seen that one bit in Juno where Michael Cera's thumbing through the yearbook, reading his best friend's messy script on the page margins while holding her bunched up panties in one hand? Right, that's me. I am Michael Cera except I'm Asian and attractive. I am him except with my virginity intact. We are Pauly Bleaker and Juno McGuff minus the sex. Minus the female. Minus the love, I guess.
ii.
We're both Pauly Bleaker but only one of us is straight, right. Are we Will Grayson, Will Grayson. Are we the unfortunate characters of some reaching YA novel. Am I just another unintentional casualty of unsolicited affection. Should I go now.
iii.
You, drunk and I, defenseless. Maybe not a chaise lounge chair. Maybe a disembodied mattress. A smattering of stars, a lit garden. My cheek to your chest and your arm around my shoulders--I can't tell if this asinine or honest, this being-with-you grave I've dug. I don't know what to do with myself now that we're sober and you're somewhere being straight. And none of it is fair but whatever, right.
iv.
Who cares.
v.
I haven't eaten in days so now I have money to spend on being miserable.
vi.
By the way, I still have your underwear.
iii.
You, drunk and I, defenseless. Maybe not a chaise lounge chair. Maybe a disembodied mattress. A smattering of stars, a lit garden. My cheek to your chest and your arm around my shoulders--I can't tell if this asinine or honest, this being-with-you grave I've dug. I don't know what to do with myself now that we're sober and you're somewhere being straight. And none of it is fair but whatever, right.
iv.
Who cares.
v.
I haven't eaten in days so now I have money to spend on being miserable.
vi.
By the way, I still have your underwear.
