This is a poem about a dinner
at the Pirates Bar in Mandurriao
long, long time ago; about a table
draped in red—probably set for four,
but tonight, just you two.
This is a poem about the sultry singer
onstage, her body swaying beautifully
before the crowd; about the chords
and drums swallowing her voice—
and yours, quietly singing the tune
you know by heart.
This is a poem about the already-warm
bottle of beer pressed to your palm;
and the ring she places back on the table;
about the lights—red, yellow, blue, indigo—
spilling across the bar, as the couple
next to your table rises to dance.
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