bartender behind a bar in a dark room

Happy Hour

the woman in front of me at the bar
turns away with a Manhattan
an upside down triangle
she tilts it gold to her mouth
a man grizzles upside her
       the breath of the woman behind me
curls on my hot neck
I mean it looks so much better on
       the cigarette of the man next to me falls
onto his upward thrusting cowboy boot
he bends to pick it up
will his caked truths tumble out
will they catch fire
       a breakable young woman watches him
and only talks when she feels
like it
I don’t need a fucking life coach
       a woman’s back bristles to the crowd
she thumbs a bright screen at the dark bar
she is not with the man sitting next to her
she scrolls clicks thumbs and her hair
blows forward almost horizontal
as the screen sucks at her face
emotions come out of our frontal lobe or something
       there are a lot of men milling around
who have a certain pink and red complexion
and round eyes above a slightly open mouth
and you can see exactly what they look like
when they are having sex
dude I think we can get drunk faster on something else
       beside me are some funny husbands
who know about everything
like kitchen remodels and freeway exits
this knowledge is a gift
that comes with being really
then in March we’ll start on the nursery
       outside the window
rain-lit at the red light a small young woman on
       her motorbike
       wears a tight black leather jacket
tight black pants
tight worn out lace up black boots and
       her small soft leg
       ends in a boot
       on the ground
       in a moment the light will cool green
and she will pull her leg onto the pedal
a perfect curve
                     a forward thrust
       slurred and panicked I order my drink