Time Travel When Drunk

You and I could time travel
just by getting drunk.
We finished four bottles,
enough to take us three hundred years
into the past or future.
You traveled back to before we met,
just so you could make love
to another without remorse.
I traveled back to catch you,
but it wasn’t cheating
since it was before we met.
I forgave you, reluctantly,
and we returned to the present,
drank more and made out.
But when I was in the bathroom,
you traveled to the future,
to make love with someone newer.
I didn’t bother following:
instead I chugged a whole bottle of wine
to transport myself back to a time
where I could meet you before we met –
we made love there, hungrily,
you not knowing we would
be lovers again, in the future.
Afterwards, I told you I would
leave you for you,
then returned to the present,
which you had returned to as well,
to pour a glass of excellent Malbec.
You made excuses for cheating on me in the future,
explaining we aren’t lovers there anymore anyway –
I changed the subject and admitted
I made love to you in the past,
before we were supposed to meet.
You flew into a rage, calling me
a two-timing time traveler
and saying you cheated on me because
I cheated on you first, before we met.
You were jealous of yourself,
complaining bitterly that
I had cheated on you with you.
Of all the women I could have had,
why did it have to be you?
I shot back about all the times
you cheated on me in the present,
not to mention the past and future,
which, as you say, don’t count.
It was a horrible fight
and no one was the winner.
In the end, we traveled as far
as we could, you into the past
and me into the future,
leaving our empty bottles
in the present.