The Bar Cart

they sit together
but act alone
leaned back but the waiting shows
quietly overdressed and yea, they know
bored, feigning interest on their phones

The bar cart rolls out, international orange
anachronistic, but made for this
wagon wheels and hanging glasses
ice shifting as the bottle meets
sabre’s edge

camera flash and slow dancers
lights flicker over sequined gowns
lips part, a cry out loud
they come together, impossibly quick

lightning flash
hands clasp around the back
old friends reunite at last
wish you were here, but looking past
unmet eyes, a darting glance
the pose changes between postcard snaps

sun sets, stage left
no longer giving
they drift away easy
satisfied and unscripted
four flutes, nonchalant and uplifted
tall bubble strings fizz, pop, and whisper
of being held in the open air
still floating in glass
blissfully unaware