Bark

I want to talk to her,
but I don't
have the guts,
so I stare intensely
into a cold mug
of beer.
The juke box
blasts pop music;
the crowd
sits around
and chain-smokes.
The noise
makes my heart
shake
in my chest.
I wish she
would look over
and talk to me,
slowly,
softly,
the way you
would talk to
a wounded dog
as you tried to
comfort it
back to health.