by Michael Petit
Marshmallow ceilings and muscle spasms
Standing at this bar, waiting for a glance
That lion typing on his screen, taking orders
Dancing around ovens, slicing sweet pies
Bearded men pouring growlers, savoring
Still afternoons lead to slow nights
Waiting around in Vermont for lion boy
Still he takes orders, marks mine pink
Murmurs of effervescence and sauce seep
Slowly, tasting this time for some while