MIXOLOGY AT THE MALLARD

Before ass meets Naugahyde

she’s on him, into his ire,

annoying him enough to leave,

to take his breed of trouble

to another drinking hole.

No way, I ain’t waiting,

four drinks later,

for the real drunk to show up.

Not when I’m working the bar myself.

I ain’t stupid.

You gotta know how to read people.

How to be a mix 

of both shrink and psychic.

She says all this

with a buffalo head bearing down

on the wall behind her.

You don’t wanna mix it up with

this bulldog barkeep.

You just don’t.

(

half parenthesis?

frown without eyes?

accidental keystroke?

it could be any of these,

depending …

what would you make

of such a mark,

such a scant message,

closed to what was,

open to what might be,

if it landed

in your back pocket

on your phone?

how would you read it –

as possibility,

epic omission,

an error of Eros?

I wonder

what e. e. cummings

would say,

how he’d answer.

THE MERGERER

A squirrel runs along a wire

Disappearing into the sun.

Watching,
I vanish also.

THE SURROGATE

A stand-in

for the thing the soul

is really seeking.

A placeholder

that fills the void

with an empty thirst

that will remain

until the chalice 

can fill itself.