Scraps of Meaning

I dont know how much of that night you remember. They say that
alcohol destroys memory; you say that you recall events clearly.
Still, I dont know if you noticed the small things, like the ways
my eyes spoke when I begged you to put on your jacket and stop yelling,
half-naked, on the white streets of Boston, like the way people
looked at you when you thought they were laughing WITH you, like
the sad stillness of your face, even as the rest of your body was
frolicking in search of pleasure.
You might not remember how much I wanted to spend New Years with
you: (my sister (much more than a lover or a friend). But yo...