PARTY OF NONE

she has the loveliest
tattoo up her
right arm

a trellis of
climbing roses and
musical notes and

she crosses the room
with plates of pasta
rolled napkins and
a whiskey sour

with the piped-in music
faking the conversation
for everyone else
I lift my pint

and wait for her
to come around again
and decide

to study my cellphone
in the direction of the kitchen
so I can check out her ass
with reasonable cover

and it is lovely too

lovely as the roses
and the musical notes
and the curve of her back

with the rise of my heart
bleeding ink into the mirror.

(c)2011DaveDonovan