One day, where I’m the rattler,
Bubbling in my own oceanic toxins.
I hope someone brushes.
Then you can respond
with no guilt. And watch the
result. Finishing my beer quick,
so I can leave this bar, otherwise everyone’s
system will still in shock.
Not leaving this tempo–
Percussive, cacophonous, scraping.
No more words, preferred seclusion.
When the glass holds emptiness,
I’ll follow calm, if I’m capable.