Cosmopolitan

In the bright city
there is no water,
just your mouth
dry and eager
for anything
other than
self. You walk
downtown,
taste something
bitter again, old
throat of gravel.
In the doorway
of the cocktail bar,
your too-warm
clothes smolder
uncomfortably
and you hope
to go unnoticed
in the lingering
gloom, behind
the close groups,
colorful strangers.
You take a sip,
another. Despite
the noise and bustle,
nothing really
seems to happen.