Wood and brick—warm atmosphere
Red designs on the ceiling
Fingers punch black and white;
Two of mine wrapped around the neck
Of a beer.

My boots are too big,
My shirt is too black.

Conversations with strangers
Who are friends because we ended up
At the same bar;
Uneasiness and exhilaration
Knowing you are watching.

The walk home:
Awkward attempts to fill the silence
Turn me on;
Hear my heavy boots hit the pavement
Is it too loud? Does he notice?

The ultimate decision
Here? Around the corner?
When suddenly,
To fill the dead air,
He clocks the opportunity
And claims it isn’t fair.

And I ascend,
Tired, angry at assumption
And lack of understanding.
what's it to you?
who go