Puttin' On the Ritz

A four piece string ensemble competes with fluted crystal glasses harmonizing to the tinkling of fine silverware underpinned by the purring whispers of well-to-do's and their hobnobbery. Buttery lobster and rib-eyed supper in opulent gravies and exotic spices; cornucopia fruits on sterling platters all floating about the ballroom on white gloved tuxedos. There’s a thick pretense in the air; a high browed notion of superiority reflected off each gold-fitted gemstone amplified when ostensibly viewed through a monocle lens. I suppose it’s a lonely company they keep esteeming each other as conquerors by cordially extended handshake; dodging and redirecting questions incessantly, so as not to be rude, no doubt. All the lavish excess of the night is surpassed in every rise and fall of her chest, as I contemplate silently what fate has befallen that life, no more beaming behind those sapphire eyes. Empty sockets abound, lifelessly betraying boisterous expressions of mirth. Dancing corpses swig their Dom Perignon forgetting for tonight, at least, the toiling lilies of the field. Preston Graham (Grahamburglar) 08/16/15 For Contest: Puttin on the Ritz Hosted by: Judy Konos