She Prefers Mustard

I was making a passionate case for mayonnaise
because I could not accept the continued existence
of miracle whip. I told Bea this while she drove
me home. A night's worth of whiskey and kisses
fueled my rapidly tiring body as my brain entered
power save mode. My ears rang, my knees ached,
I would have stayed up longer if all my systems
hadn't redlined. Sitting in her car, in front of my
house, we both knew this is where the night had
to end, at 4 a.m., racing against the return of light.