I can’t stop looking at you, can I buy you a drink?
~
on a stool at the bar
a foxy woman, solitary
older, alone in a dark corner
drinking straight bourbon, heavily
staring blankly down at the counter
conversations offered ending unhappily
perhaps I could and should have ignored her
I knew it could only end in one way
her bad memories, bitter tears
but gently I lead her away
carefully to my car
where she vomited, noisily, messily
the fox confirmed my worst fears
but later I still had my way
~
jack collier
jackcollier7@talktalk.net
wealth, foxy women, and too much wine
can make anything happen in this life
(the poetic form is a bastardized Rondeau)
Like a slice of cinema verite … well done.
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Possibly a familiar story to some. ππ
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