après moi le deluge

I’m not sure of the time. Might be nine. And I’ve had two glasses of wine. Malbec. Big gulp. Enough to inspire sweeping gestures that graciously spill a full glass of water across the table, après moi le deluge. And we sit under baby pink and green neon lights all Polo Lounge at the Beverly Hills Hotel but it’s another kinda California, one thas cholo even though it’s on Sixth Avenue. And I been sitting here with gold, bronze, copper corkscrews laid astray and I toss them off my face and I know I’m here for a reason that has yet to reveal itself.