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