When the official
came in the German
bar
And You glanced nervously at them
I should have suspected something
You telling me we had to leave
My brain fogged up
With your tales and your presence,
I thought nothing of it until later
At home, alone, after the buzzing stopped
And the scent of your perfume faced
my mind reenacting the whole scene
from our office to
the stools
where we sat on at
the bar,
dinner laid out
before us,
you with red lips and white wine,
me with the tall glass of German beer,
infatuated, drunk
long before I took my first sip,
staring at your lips as you spoke.
I could have been blind again,
you seemed so brilliant,
awash in the glow that had
nothing to do with
the lights
behind the bar,
watching you speak,
thinking how much I asked to see those lips sing,
and more, much more,
then wondering
why you insisted we
had to leave.
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