untitled xxxv

in the back corner booth beneath
the flickering Tiffany lamp that sways
with the music
loosens me up like liquor
you and I, are

bubbling alongside our gin and apricot sodas
tucking
bourbon scented secrets
under tables
(when I was small I dreamt of a man who wore glasses to read
my wet mouth is unafraid
the man at the bar is watching us)

When we get up they're stuck on our legs like gum.