The Right Stuff
I sat watching from across the bar,
As she toyed with her entourage of suitors;
Feeding each man small pieces of hope -
Her coquettish smile couldn’t be much cuter.
Her drinks were free; her blouse cut low;
She laughed at all of their jokes.
But, she always made sure, she was never alone
With just a single one of those blokes.
Some lesser men gave up the fight
When the stronger ones started moving in;
I caught her eye through the haze and the crowd
And sent her a tonic and gin.
When the waiter handed her the glass,
And mentioned it was being sent by me,
The huddle of studs all turned their heads,
At this pomposity they just had to see.
They snickered and sneered at the old man on the stool
Who was certainly no competition at all
They looked at each other, rolled their eyes
And simultaneously let out a hefty guffaw
She excused herself to go powder up
Leaving the hopeful combatants all alone
Then walked up to me, kissed me on the lips
And said, “Come on Dear, it’s time to go home.”
She slipped back on the ring I bought her years ago,
Feeling her vanity had been restored quite enough;
I paid my bar tab, looked back at the dropping jaws
And said, “Sorry boys, you don’t have the right stuff.”
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