Scampi Fries

(published in Trinity College’s Icarus Magazine)

I’ve given up sleeping with strangers — so now you know when I’m chatting up the bar staff — I’m not taking any of them home — not a single one — so if I do I’ll be utterly ashamed of myself because my new mattress hasn’t been touched by anyone — so when Sam or Tess or Marly are frantically swiping another stranger with a caption saying they’re tall with hobbies and hair — I’ll turn to look at the crisps — know with all my heart the ones I’ll pick — I’ll pretend I’m married to the green limes as the barmaid pulls them from their cardboard. I’ll imagine the salt on my lips, licking each finger until my nose twitches and my eyes water.