By Sandy Swain
single
and drunk
and and babbling
the hot married
bartender collects the empties
lipsticked and spit stained and i
i want to crawl onto the tray to be
rinsed clean and power dried polished
and shined i want to be looked up and down
as something to be drunk from and stared at and stared at
kept warm and fogged up by your breath lips mouth tongue
teeth and passed around a giggly group of friends double strawed by
a couple on a first date coy smiles and glances or or held in your hand
and complimented on my shape and weight and fragility and rarity and and
stowed away in the back of the car whilst she’s driven home safely and rolling
before hitting the floor
Sandy Swain is a writer from Kent, U.K., filling the intersection between mental health, bisexuality, and musical theater with absurdist poetry and playwriting.