grace I never gave myself

when the night is soft

I get two desserts 

because everyone but me

is on a date. the mirrored

bar makes me look 

fuzzy & broad-shouldered.

they’ve put up christmas

lights already: sickly yellow.

the barman is overly 

attentive, his white

shirt so tight that I can

delineate his piercings

& smoker’s wheeze. he tops 

up my wine after 

a bare nod. I feel

adult all of a sudden.

sometimes I discard 

my memories. 

there are too many

photo albums rattling 

around. 

I try to be kind.

I usher out bad thoughts

& sway to the song

I can’t quite make out.

in a too-small bed

above the bar,

I refresh the apps, as if 

each pull-down will scatter

men my way. 

it is a blessing

to let the thing die.