So let's look at a poem that is itself a delightful celebration of going out to a favorite dark spot for a drink and a good time. It's a reminder that we will all be able to go out and have a good time again, once it's safe to do so...
Ode to Sitting in a Booth
by Aimee Nezhukumatathil
It’s the closest thing to a cave. I have to resist
this wild urge to carve a name or word in it.
My favorite way to sit here is with cold vodka
& grapefruit juice & whatever bitter concoction
you’re sipping. Under the table I’ll nudge you
with my heels—a sign no stalactite or dripstone
will stop us. Bats do not require any energy
to claw-dangle upside down. All they need
is to relax & gravity & there’s plenty of both
swirling to go around. No matter how loud
this bar, within these three walls we can drop
straight into a very electric flight. We can
pretend we don’t answer to anyone–including
the waitress–& no one even knows where we are.
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