right now I weigh nothing

I don’t remember getting out of the car. I don’t remember leaving your birthday party. I don’t remember the way your girlfriend kept looking at me, like I was retarded and dressed inappropriately, I don’t remember the small ugly food, or yogurt and herb dip that tasted like water. I don’t remember the feeling that I couldn’t taste anything. I don’t remember your face as you walked to the bathroom. I don’t remember opening the door, and pushing you onto the sink, I don’t remember you dropping your phone in the piss spray puddle that was under the urinal.

I do remember walking up to your house, I remember the white flowers perfectly lit leading up to your door, I remember ringing your doorbell and the embarrassing sound it made. I do remember you opening the door with your sleep mask on your forehead, I remember you looking at your phone and texting as you walked into the house, and I followed you. I remember walking up the stairs to your bedroom, I remember you barely looking at me, as you moved your laptop and books from the right side of the bed, I remember throwing the oversized white fur pillows off, and I remember your little dog sleeping in the corner, I remember wanting to kick it through the window. I remember you laying down on your back, and taking one of the furry white pillows back from the floor and stuffing it under your back. I remember you spreading your legs, wearing your sleep mask on your forehead. I remember looking at the photos of your kids on the bedside table.

It’s morning now, and I’m back in the driveway - writing this on my phone, confused as to where I’m supposed to be. It’s Saturday and I don’t know anything, and there’s nobody calling. I am living in a warm place, it discourages me. There’s no black oaks and there’s no questions. There’s no vulture’s in Los Angeles but there should be.

I don’t weigh a lot, but right now I weigh nothing.