History

Emilie is new,

so she doesn’t know why

I once ended up

           

twisting my ankle after

eating Kung Pao chicken with my fingers

drinking four Keystones and smoking

from that kid Logan’s pipe while

trespassing on Lake Travis at midnight.

And she doesn’t know

why Jonathan and I don’t want to

talk about Jurassic Park.

Or why we’re always talking

about Jim, even though we

never say his name.

Or why I’m still upset

about all the times he and Jonathan

or he and Kelsey slept in my bed

when I went home for the weekend freshman year.

Or why I still squirm

at the mention of tequila shots and Teresa Hall.

Or why I always

let someone else ride shotgun in Kelsey’s car.

And even when I’m

sitting with Emilie in the backseat

at 4:30 in the morning,

trying to explain how much happier I am now

than I was a year ago,

she’ll never really know why.