'Oyster Bar' for Havarah

Drinking hidden beer in the bathroom, chug, chug. Damn. Overheard they have French Kisses here, I like them, I ask the waiter 'You have French Kisses here? I like those.' He says 'The oyster, yeah we got those.' Emphasis on 'the oyster' 'Yeah,' I say, 'I've had them before and I like them.' 'One coming-up'. I'm not hitting on you, but okay. The Starbucks cup full of beer is at my feet. The men to my right name the things they are in charge of at their jobs, ephemeral things, things people should not be in charge of, it makes them look douchie and corporate. I judge them, I write you, I imagine that you are sitting in your bed smoking a cigarette, ribs bruised, sides sore. The sea you are drawn to, the holding of water, the falling of air. I am land locked, the hustle of the room, the social incarnations of self reborn on tight schedules.
i bought food for the troops today at work. Granola bars, power bars, caffeine gum. Sending it to an infantry that cleans up bombs. Sending it to my boss' maid's son in Afghanistan. He takes the dogs to sniff and clean-up bombs. The maid worries every day that he will die. Does he save babies or blow them up? Cliff bar. I couldn't take it. The day made me sick. Help return the son, put the food in 'em that will keep him alert, or blow up babies, eyes open, long hours, got to make it, got to. I drink, in NY, gotta forget, leave it at the nine-to-five.