Back in my olden days, I worked with this guy jerk douchebag user guy who dated, like seriously, half my friends.

What? I can tell by your face that you've never worked in the restaurant business.
When you work 90 hours a week and drink the rest and sleep from time to time, it doesn't leave much time for normal socialization and getting out there and meeting people.

And no, I didn't, because I was married. 
A married waitress. 
It's like an oxymoron in this town.
I was practically famous for it.
Plus he's not my type, but he's not anyone's type really, but that didn't stop anything. 
I don't know what he had to offer, but people were buying.

Anyway. I worked with this guy who dated like seriously all my friends and really tore them up.  Really.  And when he was done tearing one up he moved to the next and tore her down and when he was done with her he moved on and did it again.  And we all watched it happen and no one did anything about it. 

Weird.
I'm guessing that kind of stuff doesn't happen much in the real world.
Whatever that is.

I don't even know what this is about, why I'm writing this down, why I'm bringing this up, but sometimes I think about that and wonder how and why it happened. 
Was it something in the girls?
Was it something in him?
Was it something in the air?
Did someone lace the drinks?  The drugs?  The days?
Dysfunction, denial, desperation, destitution, deception, depression, distress, dependency, desire.
Those D words can get you down.

The girls are all strong.  Were all strong. 
Now they are all married, or about to be.
Mothers.
Teachers.
Bankers.
Picket fencers, now, all of them.
Moved on and away and above.

Far far away.
Too far away.

And they're coming back,
driving flying rushing back
to Philadelphia. 
tomorrow and the next day
to visit. 
to eat. 
to drink.
to dance
to laugh. 
to remember.
to gather.
Together.

Funny what wins out in life, no? 

Here's to my fatgirls. 
I can't wait to see you all in the same room.
I can't wait to hear your laugh bounce around and around in your wine glass
Your eyes dance above the rim.
The diamonds in your rings catch the flames from the open kitchen.
Your fingers dip in the candle wax as it burns down into nothing.
Numbed from the booze and conversation and past.
Your ears perk at the mention of people you forgot about.
Your head shake at the people you didn't.
Your throat clench at the people you want to.
I want to watch you retake your town.
Your heels catch in the brick sidewalks of University City.
Your toes slide over the gingko that plagues Society Hill.
Your purse swing as you cross Rittenhouse.
Your knees buckle as you sneak a kiss from a horse in Olde City.
Your jacket blow open in that wind that tears around City Hall.
Your scarf stand out against the silvergrey water in the Schullkyll.
As you look over your shoulder to ask us all...
"where are we going next?"