Unravelling and weaving, sometimes simultaneously

Liquid Lunch

Thursday afternoon
and I am sitting in a sports bar
drinking 2 for 1 Moscato
in the company
of late lunch businessmen

All the televisions
are appropriately sporty

The one in the corner
is the national news
debating the debate
(election year you know)
canned politics

So I’m talking (strike that)                                                                                                    flirting with the waitress
though I don’t think she knows
she’s my favorite thing
a pear-shaped redhead

(that’s quite all right
she doesn’t need to know)

I’m watching her ponytail bob
as she sweeps the floor
watching her pale eyelashes
sweep her cheeks
as she smiles
indulging myself
with the sway of her rounded hips
as her jeans ride low

She’s lovely
and absolutely an artistic appreciation
I have no intention
of pursuing further

She’d probably have shut me down
if I was one of the listless businessmen
staring at her
instead of the sports channels
over their bar food

No need to spoil
my innocent
(well, somewhat innocent)

She wiggles and laughs
as she wipes down the tables

So I tease myself
that she might actually know
I’m not here for the TV
and the cheap wine

But nothing will happen
because I enjoy her too much
to find out either way

I leave her some tiny chocolate bars
on the tray with her tip

She blushes and thanks me
as I pull on my coat
and go blinking into the bright
setting sun

(c) RCGA 2016 o


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