he tips              too much          that god          who sits across
                   from you         his                  gestures           of
extravagance    they bring        me down         they bring       down
tongue             and sense         resounding      with
                   my longing      I am lost         within the mirror        
of     his eyes   he eyes           my fleeting glances      tripping                      
                   feet as chairs                tip over            coins
resound           or laughter                  they’re             all turning
to enjoy my                 wan     surprise           yet revelry
                    runs fiercely       through         my senses
             as         through the burning house      of poetry
my mouth        lit up with        dazzling           fire                   more
free                  for all my loss             of words         
than all             the tenses         from subjunctive         to         the sea
                                   can sing                      
too much         I say   one day           I’ll say something