Tequila, but even so,
it was clean in a way that reveals
            what needs to be.

The bottom half
of the other side’s       dash
of half a cup of pre-rinse;

there,     my hand
as strong as a tripod,

there,     all the same,
pre-made before I made it
clean,               my own.

I didn’t stretch the atmosphere like he
to shoot a rocket at a satellite,
                                    so forgive my dancing. 

If you don’t leave,
the plane will take someone else’s regret,
Casablancaed for the rest of your life
soon,

so why should I be ashamed
down here on the ground,
                        mostly walking,

but foolish
in a way that can only be called
                                                  dancing?