TRESHA HAEFNER
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Tiki Torch
If we go to the bar tonight
It will be all ogglers and onlookers,
beer and the bad behavior of bubbles snapping
rainbows into foam.
I can drop limes and peanuts into the stains of yesterday.
You can pick me up as easily as any opened shell.
Elsewhere in this wide wound of night
insomniacs pull at their sleep masks.
But here, the man who works the shot-glasses
pours out our disconsolation, promises
to proofread the room beautiful,
If you come to the bar tonight, I’ll listen
to you confess yourself
into my low-cut cardigan.
Together we can escape this manipulation
of sobriety.
Two people walking
into the whooshing sound of possibilities.
That whip of wind whooshing
past the red-faced flounder of your American ear.