I moved the glass further away,
my thoughts gone.
On the table behind me
I placed the wine glass down,
more empty than before.
The edge of the evening fell away.
Later I sat outside,
the night sky hidden.
I drew the glass towards me.
There were voices.
I held a match to my cigarette,
felt the breeze, and drew in smoke.
There were more footsteps,
then no footsteps.
Was there money left?
more than I needed, less than I hoped.