i like to imagine that one day,
we’ll sit at another bar table—
hands wrapped ‘round a pint glass,
beer in my sight and my breath:
i’ll timidly tremble a “thank you.”

if my eyes dare to meet yours,
my grip on the glistening globs
will fail as they fall on my face.
my perfect public persona:
eroded in an instant.

let me chug this and run—
night will hide my shattering,
my strangled street sobbing.
you pay the tab and tail me:
a shirt will hide my shattering.

i am and you did too much.
with my face buried in fabric,
arms tight ‘round your torso,
hands clutching at clothing—
will you still say, “it’s all good”?