i like this bar.
the low lighting and
dramatic arches lurching
forward from grainy,
crimson walls


i have been here for over an hour
observing, listening, smirking.
i should be sulking
from the looks of the others.
but somehow this is cozy, tender


the man with the crumpled beard
has been two stools over
all night drinking
countless somethings
amber and veiled


he returns from the toilets
saddling up to the stool
on my left
and begins apologizing


Naomi I'm Sorry
You Know, I...I...
i stop him to explain
i am not, nor will i ever be,
naomi


but i am his naomi tonight, his
sham priestess
welcoming
sins and repentance


I Never Told You
I Never
his incoherence is
both tragic
and welcomed


the truth is,
i don't want to comprehend
the life
that has made
this man so eager to
drown


but i can piece portions together—
serrated jigsaw
of tireless nights, of death,
preoccupation and bitter
regret


i would commiserate,
but at this point
neither he nor i
believe
in salvation