Everything You Were Not Supposed to Be

remembering a first date

In a tent at ten thousand feet, I thought of you: your ice-blue pirate eyes, your voice full of smoke and laughter.

I asked my dad what shape two mummy bags make zipped together. There’s a flip and a flop, he said, but it matters more who you share it with.

You were supposed to be two drinks, some laughs, a hug at the most.

Not beer on the hillside til moo…