Dimly lit, the room holds a flavor
of cigarette smoke.
It's an arena where unconnected
spirits imbibing in a pretense of
swaggering fantasies is
beginning to overflow.

This scene is not a menu for
the epicurean, but rather a
respite for lonely hearts to
dine on chance encounters.

Every weekend night, they
sway to the music, playing
musical chairs; and hoping they
are not left out of the game.

It's the last call for tonight
as the intoxicated souls
begin to fade out of sight.