December 31st

by Adam Selzer

I poured the last bottle down the drain
the night you laid what we had left on the floor
and laughed as you carved up what little remained.
Take the rest. I don't need it anymore.

Your black coat, long enough to touch the ground
spun like a ballerina as you hurried out
the old, paint chipped antique door we found
at the junk yard. In five seconds you were about
to the street, and I was standing at my window staring
out over the New York night, I found that though I thought
I would miss you, I ended up not really caring
any more than I cared about the perfume that you bought
So carve up what's left, get it out of here.
And if you see Judith, tell her "happy new year."