As he stumbles on the bus
he proclaims to the driver,
“I drank her under the table!”

How does one “drink” an
other; consume this other?
What role, the table, under which
his Passions play?

I do not wish to forsake this one or this other,
though I swear I do not know them.
I only know he stands, arms outstretched,
holding bus stanchions across the aisle
in cruciform stance.

I tell myself it is so he will not fall.
What if it is so he will not rise?