gray and black hair,
missing teeth,
reeking of booze,
wearing a shirt that
said, “vote no on yes.”
the man talked to me
about outdated technology
while i sat there
trying to ignore him
staring at the tv,
waiting for the results
of another election.
“what’s your name?”
“matt,” i told him.
“matthew?” he said, reaching
out to shake my hand.
“yeah.”
he told me that
matthew was one of
the hippest names
someone could have,
then something about
never letting anyone
call me matty.
then he said this:
“you know, the only hipper name is elizabeth.”
i looked at my group
of friends,
standing in a circle,
all of
them laughing at
a joke i missed.
they had long
since stopped listening
to this lunatic,
but i had
had a hard time
ignoring him.
i wish now that
i had escaped.
i shook my head
and stared into
my drink.
what the hell was
this old drunk talking about?
of all the names
he could have mentioned,
why hers?
“yeah,” i said.
this really happened,
just as i wrote it.
i’ve said
it before and i’ll
say it again,
i do not
believe in signs.