Take out

[image error]You smell rich.

I drag my jeans

And scuffed sneakers
To the bar
Of a restaurant I can’t afford –
Waiting for take out.

You, my fellow patron –
are my life’s 
Air freshener.
Your perfume worth more 
– Per ounce –
than My blood.
Through A fog of careless laughter.
Your weightless concerns float: 
-what condiment 
Is more seasonal,
Apple butter, or chutney?
– does Waterfront catering 
Work 
Without air conditioning?
– what is the true definition
Of black tie?
I breathe in your expensive cloud
I nestle in my essential oils
As you overbrag your Dartmouth grad
I wait for you to slip me a twenty,
Like a great aunt I once had.
If I cried in your fine Chardonnay –
Would you taste the bills i haven’t paid?
And as I take my bag to go
I don’t have much, but this I know
The world may love your Pulitzer pink – .
But I get the buy-back, and the bartender’s wink.