That Moment In The Bar

You were - you simply were -
right there before me
breathing as any other man.  
Primitive and brooding,
the bottom of my coffee cup,
like you - without the blue blood.

I was waiting for you to approach the table,
to turn to me the way you had her - but tailored
for attachment to my hem-line
(so affixed these desires to haunt you with lace).
I was waiting for you to take me back
to that place we always talked about in movies,
to that field where we used to stream,
to that world without hesitation,
to that bench in the park by the river where you said it all;
And I was too foolish to recognize
what you meant by "one day we'll be everyone."

Only steps away you're breathing,
and I feel it all,
the sounds cascading to color,
the bar stool turning splintered on its neck
just to watch you move across the floor,
to touch the crest of my fingers.