Ten Poems by Robert Plath

what matters most
is the rim of the whiskey glass
at midnight
as you lean on the
thick lip of the wooden bar
and smoke curls
past your eye
and the jukebox
plays a song that you
will never own
and you prefer it that way
even though it's one of the only
songs that makes you feel good
there's something savory about
not owning some things
and you sit in your small cloud of smoke
and say things you would never
and the night is a little powerful play
that must end
but not right now
not right now