the glass spins in circles. by Tohm Bakelas

I dip my finger in the beer

and just like sex 

pull out in time,

and with my finger wet

I circle the glass like

like tomorrow’s 

never going to come

as if some sound is going to play

like a record from some

unsung midwest hardcore band

but nothing comes of it

only frustration and confusion

and as the beer dries up

and my fingers dries out

the glass spins in circles

 Tohm Bakelas is a social worker in a psychiatric hospital. He was born in New Jersey, resides there, and will die there. His poems have appeared in numerous journals, zines, and online publications. He is the author of several chapbooks and a full length book of poetry. His work has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and he intends to conquer the small press and exclusively publish within.