whiskey protocol

you have a flair 
you have a flair 
you have a hole in the crotch of your jeans

please 
don’t dance 
so close

whiskey protocol
pointed references
a hiccup
a phone call 
your shoe

and joy filled the apartment 
a doily in white from a Pennsylvania wedding
bride and groom 
pink tulips 
and the plates were mismatched
forks
spoons 
you remember some things 
but not everything 

we went to school together 
second grade
we were girlfriend and boyfriend 
we reunited at a place called Spectrum
on Marshall Avenue
you could smoke inside 

please 
don’t dance 
so far away

you slouch when you sit down in chairs
you have a flair
you have a flair