What’s there is a red glow spread
out on everything. The jukebox hums
soft love through speakers,
a lone bartender mixes potions
in near darkness.
What’s not there are roars
of laughter, the sound of work
complaints and empty mugs slamming.
What’s missing are the patrons,
the regulars on a Wednesday night.
In a corner booth, a man and
woman sit, guarded by an entourage
of empty glasses. What’s missing
is her partner; what’s missing
are his insecurities.
So, her hand inches closer
to his. Their fingers hook,
entrap each other, entangle.
Hold.
What’s there is not spoken; not
whispered. What’s there is reflected
in a shot of whiskey, in the “last call” plea
from the bartender, in a neon sign
flickering like a heartbeat,
and in the voice of Hope
Sandoval as she sings, “I think it’s strange
you never knew.”
Nikolai Garcia sleeps in Compton, CA. He works with homeless youth in East Hollywood, and is an Assistant Editor for Dryland, a literary arts journal based in South Central Los Angeles. He has been published in the anthologies, The Coiled Serpent, (Tia Chucha Press), Extreme (Vagabond Books), No Tender Fences, and in various literary journals. His first chapbook, Nuclear Shadows of Palm Trees, was published by DSTL Arts. He is also a founding member of the Coleman Collective.