Doomed

So, it is doomed not to work,
from the crudités
spread asymmetrically,
a splash of colour on a platter,
to the appetiser,
a little spritz
he blitzes, spraying
conversation like haphazard rice
thrown at some random wedding
you were never invited to.

His girth, and the hideous shoe
that he absently taps on the floor
to emphasise the point
that he is boring and a bragger
and as he swaggers to the bathroom,
you regret suggesting the restaurant
with booths, meant for intimacy;
the waiter gives a sympathetic smile

and; well the man across the room
wears elasticated corduroys
and fake suede shoes, his wife
in crimpolene stares as
despondently as I do
while the maitre' d
affects flames, with a hasty
gathered bottle of brandy.

Oh Crepe Suzette, dying in a diner,
with a date who talks about
his mothers gall bladder operation,
his ex wife and money sucking lawyer,
the destroyers of his appetite,
why, he has lost 3 stone,
you wonder where from.

The crudités said it all,
the appetiser, and the
waiter with his flaming brandy,
crimpolene and baggy corduroys,
a booth in faded, faux red velvet.

You affect an excuse,
grab an alligator bag,
snap it shut and run
leaving hasty bundled notes
with the man behind the bar.

The jazz club draws you in
but you hide behind a pillar,
order something, with a dodgy colour,
then catch the late bus home.



Poetry by Elle The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 497 times
Written on 2013-05-29 at 18:26

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Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
I'm with Jim. I was squirming, but also laughing and appreciating the fine writing.
2013-06-02



You had me squirming from the get-go, from the appetizer to the bus. I will not tolerate asymmetrical crudités.
2013-05-29


Chaucer Whethers The PoetBay support member heart!
Fabulous vignette of a character study
the stylistic detail and faux culture
references..
As someone once wrote
In Love, there are no winners,
only the hunter and the hunted .
2013-05-29