a few tense minutes
reflection over refraction
contemplating bubbles
and the color of your eyelashes

wet the small heart
i only carry violet pens
it bleeds into the beer damp
like memory and a new kiss

the corner of your mouth
the edge of smile
i wipe the dangerous illusion
and save it crumpled warm close

later in the light of little
beaded lamps alone
with a sense of softness
and clouds of friendly dark
i know the pattern of tenderness
and the number to order more