LATER
LATER
We can go all night
dancing to music we’ve never heard
and don’t much care for
drinking until it gets so very funny
every word, every step.
Go until we’re leaned crooked against the wall
and feeling strangely at home
in this illegal after hours club
like a high-rise apartment living room
hot, with bad couches
and carpets that remind me of my grandmother
and her racism
and her bowls of fake plastic grapes.