the last time i saw you,
you were eating a chicken caesar salad.
i had been walking along the drawbridge
over spa creek
when you picked me up in your car.
you weren’t wearing your uniform.
i told you about the boy i was fucking
and texted him under the table
while you smiled through
the gap between your teeth.
you told me you might be going
to brazil, might be playing rugby
in the olympics.
you said you’d been hit in the nose
in a game a few weeks ago
and it still felt funny.
i remember looking at your nose
and thinking it looked fine to me
as i sipped my beer
and kept texting
under the table.