sonnet for the singles bar soldiers

the bouncer smiles and nods open the door
an ocean wave of cheap fragrance stench
a deck outside, crippled cleavage on a bench
and we dare them ladies hit the dance floor

they are generous in flesh and maybe more
i crack some very bad jokes, my friend speaks french
in singles bar men seem out of the trench
hungry hunting for prey and carnage, gore

all of us kings with no crown
courting queens with no castle, hideous chambermaids
a few hours of hard earned diversion

we want to score, not frown
turn lights off and kick off the plaids
smoking out, horny as hell in drunk confusion


michael cole embers (Ithaca, NY, 1972)