She is drunk as the moon

It is neither the flag that moves, nor the wind that moves. It is your mind that moves.

Zen Koan

she is drunk as the moon
shining above her arms bracket
face she is wayward 
with some beat some hit
forgotten forgot to pull up and
pull down her too small tube
dress breast ass right on that
line drive to lizard hindbrain
the crowd slows surround conversation
strays away to gaze and she knows
they watch her

        (don't watch her!
         watch them
         watch her)

men stare and women
glare here and there a squint
or licked lip a thumb running
down the sweat of glass
fingers press to table
cigarette pull and arched eyebrow
it is not silent but would be
but for that beat that hook
she the bait they 
want to take

and so when the night died
and nobody told us
and when we weren't looking
                        the moon
stumbled behind some buildings to 
                        sleep it off
                        having
                        observed the measure
                                      of our desire