somehow you follow me everywhere
spandex and vodka abound
my thighs are chafing, my forehead is sweating, my hair is frizzy
and like a bad omen
the game is projected on the walls and the ceiling
victor wembenyama appears infinitely
pulsing and throbbing
and i imagine a time where i might be watching this with you on our couch
next to you but still miles away
hearing you commentate, make notes, file things away for later—
spreadsheets sprawling in front of us
you know his three point percentage
but can’t remember my work schedule
i watch a couple make out in the corner
against the blue and orange of the OKC thunder
and feel kind of lonely—
but with you
it would have been lonely too
just a different kind