He came up to me at work
and asked me if I'd ever been
thrown out of a party.
Not for years, I told him.
It happened to me, he said,
the other night.
What was the offense?
I ate some macaroni salad from the fridge,
That's not much of an infraction, I said, thinking
of the time I took
a dump in that frat house sink.
How'd he kick you out? I asked.
How'd she kick me out, he corrected.
With a broom, he said, his eyes widening
as if it was frightening to recall.
He mimed a crazy person
stabbing the air with an invisible broom.
She chased me, he said,
all the way to my car.
I had to throw the Tupperware in the bushes.
What kind of people are you
hanging around with? I asked.
I thought they were my friends,
but I guess they're just
No shortage of those, I said.
By the way, how was the salad?
Terrible, he said,
bunch of health nuts.