A One-Write Stand

I thought I had the element of surprise on my side, as I looked longingly in her eyes Tempted to reveal the whole spiel She spoke with unequivocated zeal ...elegant fingers fondled a wineglass stem Knowing the control she had on men Furtive grin as she relished her hold on them... Sparring in Stained-wood and polished brass arenas Lighten by neon signs, three stools between us Asking as I wrote, what words I conjured Her initial inquiry left me feeling honored But as fast as the fascination manifested a more sinister motive was then suggested It was my intention, she says, to deceive Acting involved in the words I conceived Reeling in interest as I pretended no notice I laughed at her silly suggestion of motive Knowing all the while it was her presence giving my poem a direction of essence She turned to leave and find another seat I watched her, bemused with her tantrum retreat My pen-hand scrawling the last of those lines I slipped the finished product under her wine Reading it, her full lips mouthed the words Smiling, she now knew her assertions absurd... I left then, fumbling for the keys to my car Keeping with my rule "No love at the bar" Walking off, pleased with my choice to exit Every part of my body language said it. She knew I gave her a different intimacy an unabashed version--peering into me