Familiar poetic territory! From the autumn of '16.
More Than Anything, Really
I met her at the Stopped Clock when she was in her 20s. Bartender and waitress.
Five-eight, five-nine. Dark brown hair and dark brown eyes. She once described herself as “pudgy,” but it wouldn’t have been wise to agree with her!
The first time I saw her, she brought me the Fisherman's Platter: "See what I caught for you! I spent all morning in my boat catching this fish! It's not scallops you taste, it's love."
Once, I had three of her martinis. That was a fun trip home! Had to get off the bus to puke at every other stop. She was putting five ounces of gin in each drink!
She’s banned for life from O’Brien's Pub. She’d beat up the guys who got grabby.
She’ll quote Dante to the bookworms and talk Bruins with the jocks.
She’ll play Patsy Cline on the Stopped Clock jukebox and softly harmonize: He called me baby, baby, all night long…
Sometimes, I'll ask for another Newcastle, and she'll say Absolument!
She had to get blunt with the woman professor who fell for her in a big way.
I asked her out once. She let me down easy.
She'll give a buck or two to Lenny, who asks for spare change a few doors down from the Clock.
She smokes. She drinks. She won't say Jesus! in vain. She'll drop F-bombs at the rate of 49 a minute, but hands off the Holy Name!
She loves Murder, She Wrote. "When I was in high school, I thought Angela Lansbury was the Second Coming."
She did a competitive swim once, in the waters off Cape Cod. Beaming, she told me, "I punched a fish!"
She’s a hundred and forty pounds of amazing in a pair of knee-high boots, and I love her more than beer and Dylan Thomas.
Poetry by Thomas DeFreitas
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Written on 2019-06-15 at 11:15
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