By Himself

It is evening. The hopeful man at the bar by himself wonders that those two stars near the moon are planets, and moving; laughs when two friends with a newly acquired rose hold it between her teeth and he shows her how to tango, and he has never tangoed before. The man smiles when he notices a couple talking in inaudible tones allowing others to only guess that they are happy, she smiling at him, and all is noticeably lighthearted; raises his eyebrows at the couple on the far side, she in his lap noticing nobody, tongues tasting tonsils. He drinks; waits for friends, an invitation from a stranger, the moon and its cohorts to disappear. It is evening and the hopeful man is at the bar by himself.