Smokey schoolgirls
brush past,
willowy razor-blade assassins.
The band pretends to play.
Music pretends to be heard,
a stiffness in the alcohol air.
Rings, wet rings overlap,
they gleam on the bar top.
Out of the cottony light come
pearls glistening
where the circles intersect.
Footprints of the sweaty glasses bead up
and a bartender wipes them away.
I have seen that face before
that face you're wearing now.
I've watched it shine across a barroom,
like a pearl glistening,
that very face
the one I remember then.
