Bar

The people sit,
catatonic, sweating,
while she squeezes limes,
and the television distracts us,
(we are quite content with this)
they talk about their poetry,
and the worth of others,
as the bartender sways her hips,
and we collectively dream of greatness.
The bearded man and young girl,
slowly get loose,
expelling the Greek,
the light catches her glazed eyes...
We are bombarded with images,
a thousand points, rising to the surface,
extracted bits of brilliance,
warm wood,
the presence of home.
And what of this?
And what of us?