At Nietzsche’s Party

At Nietzsche’s party on New Year’s five years ago. We argued, I don’t know, someone playing guitar, someone changing records, someone leaning on their horn in the driveway. Well, talk to me, you said, let’s have a conversation. O.K. I said. Problems? someone else, probably Nietzsche, said. We sat on the bare hardwood floor cross-legged, leaning against the wall, saying something, not saying anything. Forget it, you said finally, lighting a cigarette in that affected way – you were new to it then. I took it from you. What did I do with it? I took a puff, took a puff then ground it out on Nietzsche’s floor. A slow record, Marvin Gaye, we slow-danced like everybody else, our last New Year’s together, we stepped apart and you were crying