Valencia

in this red room
still
no bartender
but
July's ocean chill
trickles in
like a leaky facet
keeps the skin tight
and my hair alert
fanning heatless flames

i speak in small unprovoked movements
small dances
glances
and stripped conversations with black-eyed strangers
every accidental touch
chances
a brush
a love affair
every smile
a vow
every awkward utterance
divorce
“hi
how are you?”
“good, can I buy you a drink?”