Orders to a Barmaid

Snow fallen in the

hours while we were inside

covers the black ground

My eyes stray always to the

green numbers of the clock

willing them not to change

as the day I anticipated for months

slowly is left behind

Words of humorous paranoia cross my lips

I smile, devilishly awaiting our return to warmth

rum-muddled mind

cloaking previous impulses of melancholy

I am wanted and loved as we brave the night

I belong on the leather if not on the wood

(April 11th, 2007)