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Poem

It was not a Parisian café
though it tried to be.
Our teeth were strong
they flashed
intermittently.
The house wine was red,
the bread was good bread.
The creamy leaf was dressed,
it bloomed and licked the mouth
with a blithe bouquet of ease and tease.
The fish was dunked in a
blue dish of piquant delight.
A butter fat flounder fandangoed
upon our tongues just right.
We were trying, working the words,
leaning into anything
that would further our cause.
Alas signals were misread
gambits misunderstood
subtleties stubbled over ambrosial food.
Tight lipped
we nibbled and sipped.
Time slipped, barely recovering,
the waiter was smooth, his speech
a soupcon of olive upon a slippery smear.
We tried to repair
tried to mend that which was not there.
At the frothy tick of the hour
coffee dark resignations shrugged.
We briefly hugged while hope
crumbled upon a red and white cloth,
hurried promises exchanged,
a cheek peck and wane smiles
pale preludes to nothing at all
and nothing arranged.
It was awhile since
yet
we met again
though we were ever the same,
for nothing went anywhere
and that was it
to be never again.

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