Poem: Hail Mary

I keep time
with celery, stir
the horseradish sediment
in my extra bloody Mary.

Swish, swish, swish.
Tick tock.

Long drags
of tomato cocktail.
More Tabasco.

The young man in a Misfits tee
on the stool next to mine
not-so-subtly
eyes my spread:

Mostly blank sheets of paper
crossed-out words
a thesaurus
a Papermate ballpoint Flexgrip
another drink.

What are you writing?

A novel
a eulogy
erotic Twilight fan fiction
my last will and testament
or maybe
I'm just signing the check—

but I'm not speaking to him,
and he's vacated already;
I'm talking to Mary
on an empty stomach

with a flaming tongue
and some time to kill.