Seven descended on the table
Away from the crowd
He sat in the middle,
Back to the wall
Surveying the scene
She approached,
Young, pert, saucy
Ready to please
Ready for banter, the bluster
He watched her come
Stride across the room
To take his order
Did she really hear it
His thoughts expressed
By her young lips
“Nice teeth?”
She asked
“No, No”
“I said Iced Tea”
Oh, but it was too late
The comrades were ready
Eager to jibe and jab
To dis’ his blurt of thought
In too public view
Ordering fell apart,
Cascade upon torrent
Variations lost -
You get what I give ya -
Refuge needed
Ah, yes -
Chicken Quesadillas, dear sweet friend
Oh, yes, my dear listener
It was a signal, an assertion
His standard fare; but oh so much more
That night
When nice teeth
Became the watchword
Throughout our night.
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 18,720+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
2 comments:
In all fairness, she did have nice teeth!
Oh yes she did, and that is the point, after all. That the intent to say iced tea was overwhelmed by the thought on the tip of the tongue, in the moment, seeing her nice teeth...
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