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
Copyright © Steve Voorhees | Year Posted 2009
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