Freshly painted toes, encased in days-old pantyhose.
Thinly winded nylon cobwebs ripped up the sides,
caught repeatedly on splintered wooden barstools.
Elastic fabric fraying, praying, for this wear to be
its last.
Sticky sweet oak flooring wails slippery creaks on thin
stiletto impact. Unheard beneath the clatter of
glass, beneath the chatter of voice.
Smoke curls through those hair-sprayed holds. Hot
cherry lip-gloss stains seven thin Virginia cigarettes,
fading from three to four, five to six.
Fruity mezcal air escapes into the clouds, dancing
inside hot breaths laboring littered in the crowd
Grain distilled spirit soaks through the polyester lace of
her babydoll dress. Through a crowded door she exits,
Pink in the night,
under cold streetlights,
her solemn damp silk.
The night feels lighter.
Trash-tinged pollened’ air fills my lungs
So sweet and familiar
Alyse Pittman is a third-year English student at DePaul University. They are passionate about poetry, fiction, and the capturing of singular, unique moments in time.