PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

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• All these hearts hanging from thick chains like early L Cool J and the gang, the weight becomes habituating, a linked burden of favorites. She tilts her frizzed head and discovers disco vermin gettin' down on the bar's peanut hull and pretzel crumb covered floor boards. A portent that says breakers off the port side, haul ass starboard, lass.
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• Over the loud get-down band on the improvised stage, his smile demonstrates the proof of annual dental visits. It is the spurs, she realizes after the jangling abruptly stops, the well oiled whirling circles  that had entranced the cold and most unsentimental first opinion: "Who let it in?" Sweat starts forming in interesting places.
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• Surreptitious eyes behind the bar, from bandstand, flashing up from tableclothes, would envy the tall and unexpected except for the Cowman hat this far northeast and the foot gear that says podiatrist in the near future. Only a climate altering sun invented that tanninged face. Deep bark brown irises grew into hers, he was a perfectly honed profile from brow to booted legs.
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• His first utterance, after the Bucky Beaver sparkled grin, was "Hello Miss," which was disappointingly not followed by the well rehearsed or irresistably spontaneous pick-up line: "I didn't expect to find paradise in here." Candles went out,  the light fantastic turned to a tripped over mundane, moon and starlights dimmed as he uttered through invitingly kissable lips,  "I gotta use the John bad. Where is it?"
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Lady A

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TO BE CONTINUED

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