Lovers at the Bar
It’s a jazz night,
And they’ve come in from the pool,
Sunlight still clinging to their skin.
She wears a polkadot dress
That dares the room to look away,
Legs like sin and summer.
He’s all camo hat, tattoos, and muscle,
The kind of man to haunt dreams
And sweat-soaked sheets.
They set up backgammon on the bar,
As if dice were foreplay,
And touch was currency.
They giggle.
Lean close.
Vanish into each other’s world so completely
It feels wrong to keep watching.
But we do.
Everyone does.
Because beauty this alive
Pulls the eye like tidewater,
Slow,
Inevitable,
A little dangerous.
They are poetry.
Skin.
Heat.
Something like jazz rising
Between the moves.
