on point without points

got bones bragging

about failed attempts

cracking up

about the spills

that left me embarrassed

to be me and embarrassed

but the bones keep on

saying i i i

as though i’m supposed to hear

it over the o o o

and the people who watch and laugh

that i’ve spilled my drink

and will have to buy another

while they move gracefully

like chicken bones without

all the weight of meat

foretelling what the song will yield next

out of static scratches that seem

to connect to all except me

with my drink

alone

standing at the bar

unmeasured

wet and

waiting for my bones to

give me a break

the world rotates

like a ballerina

and i remain still