New Year's Day, 2002 Revised

Instead of turning on my worn heeled shoes after we finished smoking our cigarettes I would have looked at you in that way that said succinctly kiss me. I had been waiting all night for you to ask me to go out into the cold with you to inhale poisonous vapors, I wanted to shiver with you... but instead I was coolheaded, and I distracted you from your desire to clasp my mouth with yours by sharing weird observations, signaling with my body that the moment was now over. So we went back inside, and settled for the tame gesture of letting our shoes touch, like our shoulders and knees touched when we sat on couches together the night before, the same night I unceremoniously took your beer from your hand and had a sip before carefully placing it back–as though I did that all the time...

I would have held your gazes longer, I would have been one of those girls who knows what to say to make a man foolish and sick with love. I felt you wanting to close the gap between us. I would not have let another whole year of the earth's turning pass without knowing the rhythm and pace of your heart.

When the clock struck midnight I would not have been standing alone in a maelstrom of confetti and kissing couples, wondering why you were no where near me in the crowd of your friends. Rather, you would have come to find me, taken my hand, and said softly 'happy new year.'