so you’re the one
so you’re the one, she says.
i’m in the wine store
with a handful of cheap french bottles
trying to replace all of the wine that my wife and i drank.
you’re the one who’s been
drinking all of my wine.
your wine? i say.
the store owner laughs nervously.
he dresses nice, better than i ever could.
i’m probably putting his kid through college
with how much money i spend here.
yes, she says.
she points to my bottles.
that’s my favorite wine.
it’s so smooth and it doesn’t give you a headache.
that’s nice, i say, putting the bottles down.
the store owner rings them up
on his brand new, digital cash register.
vivaldi is playing the background
and i realize then and there
how much i hate vivaldi and this wine store owner
how much i wish there was somewhere else to go.
now i know, she says, putting her
wine on the counter
as soon as i take my bagged bottles.
now i know who’s been drinking all of my wine.
i can put a face to the culprit she says.
i guess you can, i say.
then i leave the store
and begin the slow walk up third avenue
toward the apartment
bracing myself against the wind
coming off the ugly, brown river.