it's what I called golden

I took you in
with one hand gesturing
and the other clutching
a bottle of vodka
(I like to think I'm a savior
not just the girl
who lived next door
to the surgeon
who cheated on his wife
with my older sister)

There were the usual lies
and the half-drowned, rat-like smiles
that floated over the tops
of our dirty shot glasses.
That gleam was in your eye
while the remnants of sleep
still lingered in mine-
both seen through the smoke
(the addict who isn't addicted
to anything but addiction
still needs a high)

But the next morning
after the French toast
and scrambled eggs with
their heavy topping
of freshly-ground pepper...
I knew you'd be back