I Heard I Might Find a Poet Here Part 2

Note: If you haven’t please check out part one before reading this. It will make more sense that way Thanks. Time moves slower than a rusted windmill on a still day as I am unable to avert my stare, frozen in this spot, captivated by an intoxicating charm smoother than Tennessee whiskey that hasn’t seen the light of day since old Jack Daniels passed, and in this catatonic state I am also hearing things too, did she say poet? Someone drops a quarter in the juke box, Sinatra croons from overhead speakers, “Strangers in the night” Appropriate I think as I fumble to form a coherent sentence while gazing, recklessly submerged in endless chestnut eyes, drowning in dark melted chocolate sweeter than hometown honey She pulls a slow sensuous drag from her half spent Virginia Slims, perfect lips release the scarlet smudged filter, exhaling a stream of smoke, a light grey cloud cascading lazily but deliberately in my face and with a sly smirk sighs, “Cat got your tongue?” Blinking back to consciousness, or some reasonable facsimile, I attempt again to respond as Angelo behind the bar, tosses me a life line ”Another?” he points to my near empty bottle pitching a white towel to his shoulder. “Yeah, yes… you?” I mumble awkwardly in her direction pleading silently to myself, get it together man Flicking ashes in a Stella Artois ashtray, she lifts the glass to her rose petal mouth empties it in one smooth seductive swallow, then removes the olive, glances at me through black swan lashes, brings it suggestively to her lips and places it on her tongue My breath exits faster than a 38 caliber screaming goodbye to a pulled trigger. “How nice of you to offer,” she replies in a hushed lullaby tone. I nod to the bartender and he gives me a wink. He’s seen it all, I think to myself Placing a bewitching hand gently atop mine she inquires, “So, can you help me?” My stomach, obviously all along one enormous cocoon erupts releasing every butterfly known to mankind, all of which now frantically flutter inside of me, I lean a little heavier on the bar for support, it’s almost not enough Angelo returns, setting a fresh martini in front of her, a cold beer for me. Nervously I bring the bottle to my mouth, when I notice she raises her glass in my direction. What an idiot, I mumble as I retreat just in time from drinking to touch her glass with mine “To the sexiest woman I have ever seen.” I can’t believe I said that, she looks away feigning shyness. We both take a drink, almost in unison, liquid harmony, the perfect duet The cold beer feels good going down my parched throat, as a freak thunderstorm popping up over a drought stricken landscape might, only I plan on absorbing mine more rapidly and having more fun as I do. “Are you planning on getting me drunk before you answer my question?” she giggles taking another sip, flashing a neon smile which ignites in me a prior unknown courage, “No, not all,” I answer. “I have been known to jot down a poetic line or two” To be continued…