Leaning against the bar
he was inches from
my pulse
heat and cologne coming off him
in waves
He was
talking at me,
not
to me looking past me
toward the crowd of
strangers
I would not have been so easy to disregard
If he had seen me
pressing fingernails into palms
If he could see my
gnawed lower lip
If he could taste my need.
If he knew I was alive.