9 O’clock

Underneath the table

Her warm hands were rubbing my thighs

The bar was stale with old-age smoke

The red-light candle was burning

In front of my face, ill

There was a beat on the system

Underground a train would rumble by

Ladies flirting at the table top

Minds wondering and smiles exchanged

All I could focus on

All I could dream about

And get lost in

Your eyes

Put the thick dust away

The sounds, the noises, the bull

I see you through the curtain of iron

The blinds of war

It’s you I’ve been searching for

I’ve been waiting for

For the look in your eyes

And warmth of your touch

Underneath the table

The air is no longer stale

I’m holding your hand

Can you feel the warmth?

The kindness?

The realism?

Nothing bad today

Nothing ill

Nothing wrong

Just our eyes locking

Just ourselves getting lost

In the minds and warmth of each other

Forget about the tonic-stained wooden floor

The cast-iron ceiling and dimly lit yellow lights

Forget about the juke box playing songs of the like

The coasters holding up the drunks and beauties

Forget about the dirty bathroom and overflowed toilet

The beer labels stuck on walls and youngsters believing

Forget about the fried potatoes and beefcake bouncer

The pushed breasted bar tender and slick stud of yonder

Right now, the moment is for us

All of us

Every part of our hearts

As we share and intertwine our flame

At 9 O’clock

© 2000 David Greg Harth

00.01.09.20:39:09 @ 296 New York City

00.01.11.02:08:38 @ 296 New York City