Bar tops can be cold things
though their grain is warm with polish
and spilled feelings.
My elbows find some comfort
where my gullet still looks
for air like a fish run out of water
by his own distaste for fellows.
The knock of stool tops against the flat
reminds me of how things can vibrate
hard enough to jar change
in a pocket
when their empty.
Your wooden words have a lot in common
with my wooden feelings for you.
They'll both burn easily
with a decent spark
and since we need the varnish
and the whorls beneath us
to keep this thing going
we might as well start a fire
with what we can afford to spare.
