The Usual
She brushes against my back and floats on past,
Like fireflies in fog.
My restless eyes return to Sam
Deliberate but precise,
He mixes my “usual,” the next never less than the last,
I sip and stir, sip and stir, ice in gin enduring.
Sitting there.
In elegance enthralled, as if pressing fire
To her lips were innate as breath.
No one like her wakes up alone
My gaze crashesintohers
Her eyes fly through me then through the thrsehold.
Thoughts wrestle. I stand to relieve myself.
The passing haze her sinewy silhouette swaying
Insisting I speak even if entirely incoherent
The slightest inkling realized would quake the earth
Then swiftly plunge us to pleasured perish
Forever damned in whimsical desire
Down down down we fly now oh no tis only I
Stumbling through the exit.
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