Saturday night

I don’t mind spending with a stranger

as long as she doesn’t

object to my haircut

or order the most expensive item

on the menu

or crack the bones in my feet

when we dance

and I’ll rake off as profit

any time she laughs at my jokes

grips my knee

or smiles into my eyes

and I won’t get impatient

if she has problems remembering my name

and her conversation’s stuck on reality TV

or her heel breaks

and she drinks so much

I have to half carry her to the car

I don’t ask too much of a stranger

only that she stays that way