P O E T I C --- P A I N T I N G S

"Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt, and poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen" -- da Vinci

To write poetry, you must read and, read some more -- Me

Dec 28, 2007

It's 3AM

They sat across from each
other at the back of Fred's Bar
the corner was dim

and choked
with furls of cigarillos
screwing virginia slims.

An antique table hoisted
her elbows and white russians,

umbrellaed his sweat and drips
of long island iced teas.

Cracked red vinyl seats
knew their asses well
and groaned under
their shifting weights
wishing that it had a mouth.

No one else heard
drifts of sultry's whisper
or the succulence she promised

"Oh, you like it like that?"

he could only drool and nod
his eyes dulled,
his toes curled in a grip
as tenacious as a pit-bull.

"yeah, that's good, that's
the spot" he sputtered.

They shocked the salt
and pepper shakers
right over the edge.

"Let's go and finish
this else where" he pants
"no, not yet" she murmurs,

"come, let's dance" she
pouts her red-painted
botox shots.

She gets up, rearranges
the black wisp of a dress

grinds the air
as she sashays
towards the dance floor

"one more thing --
(she murmurs)

what did you say
your name was?"

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