The Date
Late for the date.
He entered the hotel
through its revolving doors.
Missing the right turn, the precise gap
in which to step forward,
he staggered rearwards onto the back glass,
then bounced, like a jack rabbit
into the foyer.
She, of course, coolly witnessed
this comic entrance.
When he sheepishly handed her
the crushed and bedraggled roses,
he knew that he was definitely not
getting laid that night
or possibly ever.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2022
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