He half-heartedly kicks the back
of my leg and I ask
what for? He shrugs
in a cartoony way
and sez, no reason,
just thought you needed
to be kicked, standing there
alone and posing. So I assess
my position, no doubt propped up
by the bar, and wait to see
if he’ll come a little closer,
close enough for me
to see the details in his smile.
I am posing, I guess, I am
lost in the smoke of a townie bar
watching the regulars shoot pool
while I think about what should come
after last call. Yeah, I stretch
my hand out towards him, say,
you think I am posing?
without cracking a smile.
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