Shuffle of feet, rattle of unseen
silverware and flatware and glass.
Speaking (so very much talking),
hushed and hurried and raucous, and
listening (perhaps listening) eyes devouring eyes
and movement, forming, reforming, flanking,
attack and defense (and alcohol) lines pushing and pulling,
vying for position along the precipice
of social interaction… 
                                                   and everything I am is
                                                   penitence in the elbow
                                                   barely touching your elbow;
                                                   worlds without words
                                                   in that prayer.