A Date At Chelsea's With Marci
Mid-April evening, overlooking Clear Lake
at Chelsea’s Wine Bar, a party of one:
Sipping white zinfandel, I feel the chill
of my half-empty glass while fancy-free
flatware clatters impassive pageantry.
A moment. An hour. Another, until,
on the wooden veranda, I see you take
a familiar draw from your lipstick stained
cigarette. I thought you had quit awhile back.
I couldn’t - and step outside where the
unchanged breeze holds a subtle hint
of perfume. That hasn’t changed. I hesitate,
but then say “hello”. Turning away, you say
“it’s late”. I nod. Unnoticed by agreement.
5/1/2017
For Fancy Free Poetry Contest
Copyright © Phillip Garcia | Year Posted 2017
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