Here I am again
wading through straw hats and jazz-
hailing the bartender,
spilling.
I’ve got last call to catch.
That firecracker with geraniums in her hair
is thirsty and wearing symptoms
of dance fever.
I’m doing a dance of my own,
holding my watery scotch over my head,
dodging sweaty shoulders.
I’ve almost made it back to Flower Girl
when I see a sight
that nearly jars the J&B; from my hand-
I see you.
You’re waiting by the jukebox
for Baseball Coach to retrieve
dos tequilas
and you’re happy.