Social Poetry.

It's nights like these I will miss. I will most definitely miss these things. Laughing- so hard my abs might actually turn into a six pack,-about inside jokes and really crummy ones. Feeling the tightness of my throat due to talking far too much, at an equally excessive volume. Sitting and standing. Standing, hovering, sitting and standing. The easy flow in and out of conversations. The chaotic but steady rhythm of shared words. Hops and foam. Winks and hugs. Social poetry at it's finest.

I will miss you Wednesday nights, and all that you entail.

My new roommates are also rolled into this whole missing business. My old ones too. Marie Catrib's and Kava House and Redux. Don't even get me started with Redux. I've been in there more than any healthy person should the last few weeks. I will also crave the night lights from atop the west side slope.

And El Matador chips. They're the bomb. You just can't deny local, salty, cheap and delicious paired with salsa.

There are so many things. So many little things that will add up to a whole lot of missing.
It's only six months though. I'm making this sound like I'm going to another planet, or to prison. But I'll be back. I'll always come back to this city. To Wednesday nights. Back to good friends and hearty laughs. Maybe not back to Yesterdog, unless ya'll join me again, then-sign me up for another link of fake meat, because spending time with you makes it worth it.

You friends, you know who you are. O, you who make me laugh and cry and love my life. Thanks for your jokes and your sincerity. For your kind words and attention to things that are good. Good like conversation and hot dogs. My hat is off to you, and my heart comes along with it.