Barbecue Sauce

[Hey, I'd be down with any suggestions on this. The tense is weird to me. I really like story poems, so any help would be welcome.]

When they got to the restaurant
I was waiting outside on the bench
it didn’t take them long to comment
“So Jake, how are you doing?”
I just grinned
and tried to get up

It wasn’t my fault really
I hadn’t been paying attention
it was 96 degrees out
and I forgot to eat breakfast and lunch

I focused real hard on getting the burger to my mouth
and remembering to say the consonants
but I have trouble with those things when I’m sober

I was surprised she came
(she was real good looking
and I had spent the summer
trying not to noticeably notice it)
I don’t know why I ordered
a burger with Barbecue sauce on it,
but I did

With mesquite-whiskey goodness
settling in to it’s new home on my collar
I made conversation
I told them about the layer of cartilage
In a wombats ass
and how badgers defended themselves

I wish rolling eyes were signs of flirting
but I’m pretty sure they’re not
I wondered why barbecue sauce was so good in the mouth
but so bad on the shirt
I wonder if I tried to lick it off. . .
I’m in no condition to try and be sneaky

I got bored with the conversation
no wombats, badgers or barbecue sauce
just who's-dating-who
we were sitting outside
and I watched the birds fly around

Birds rule
I have a bird book in my car
I wish there had been someone there
who liked bird books, beer, and barbeque sauce
I bet we could have had a lot of fun.