shot glass
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

David Colodney

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She whispers, coos in vodka-laced tones,
Calm and soothing. I've had a few too many.

Her cigarette dangles; she uses puffs for punctuation,
Musky breath floating to me, she calls for another drink
And one for me, too.

Her phone dances inside her purse,
She reaches, and I watch her fingers ballet across its keypad.

She slides from the barstool next to me, gulps her drink.
Bends over a little too long to gather her things.

And I check her out as she goes,
As close to her as I ever get.