The Leaving Song: part I

The last bite of beef is taken before nine. Galbi, Korean BBQ, will miss you, dear friend. Crack the final bottle of Fort Garry Dark, saved in its spot for such special occasion: the end.

Down to Dujeon Oasis wine bar, squish in dozens on the rocky floor. Take over the front of house, edging out all the locals wondering when North America flew in. Buy out the cheapest dry red, and leave the second the first expensive bottle is spent.

On to our preferred basement dive to watch the newbie derby blonds grind up a stripper pole. Insist too many drinks be bought in the name of the hour, then threaten to knife the white guy going after your Korean girl friend.

Grab the hand of the oldest ally and fall into sweatpants, two to a single bed. Closer, closer, wind it down. The end, the end. The end.