I let him slip fingers
into my coin purse
feel around its edges
/a soft butter silk/
find three dollar coins
and a half beer coaster
stained and inked with numbers

I let him slip past with a light hand on my shoulder
take a sharp left into a crowd
stumble over a pair of shoes
fold back his hair

I let the jukebox song of a
73’ romantic rockabilly
crash my boring chitchat with a young girl

I let the stares from and older woman
who has always loved me
be ignored

I sting my throat with
a strong spirit
and I mouth to him from
across the room
that my chest is tight from a fear of being found