Sonnet 48: Fancy Meeting You Here

By Aurin Squire

Fancy meeting you here, a place like this.
The drinks flowing freely, and please don't tip.
Plastic cups crushed underfoot, stale beer kiss
The fumes hit the noise resting on my lip.

A bartender's work is philanthropy,
Cupid arrows thrown in a mixer.
Buzzing hums massage the worker bee
Unpleasant drudge needs weekend elixir.

Won't you come home with me and stroke my feet?
In exchange I'll give you a skull massage.
And we'll cuddle/cry. Wouldn't that be neat?
In my illegal studio garage.

I'll pour the drinks and smile down the resent.
The sullen task, bartender's lament.