Autumn Collins The 2River View, 7.4 (Summer 2003)
Past the Hour

It’s past the hour
As we passed another,
Glistening with hallucinogenic sweat
That is no more real than what I know of this affair.
The bar stools are hot and dark like the evening
While words echo through empty wine glasses
And I almost let that sound
Drown out the thumping of violence
That started in my chest
But has now come to nest
In the lines around my mouth.
Leaving the bar their hands want to touch
But I am too close behind.
Our steps shine
And break the reflections
Of bar lights and flashes on hoop earrings
As the wet pavement,
Glossed by a sudden shower,
Tells me everything I need to know.

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