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.