bar hopping

trying to stir up

our plateaued

relationship

we go bar hopping

one night.

well, actually we move

from the seat by

the window

to the bar area

after it's cleared out a little.

we ask the bartender

if he could turn down

the music a little.

it's almost nine o'clock.

we both look

at our watches,

sip our drinks and chew

on the last

cold rubbery ring

of calamari on our 

shared plate.

should we go, i ask her,

and she says,

okay. the cat is probably

wondering where

we're at.

should we get a box for

this?

nah.