She bumped into me,
asking if she could
buy me a drink
at a dingy dive bar.
Affection glowed in her eyes.
I told her she could.
It was just a drink;
that’s all it was supposed to be.
We chatted at a table by the jukebox,
playing 90s country.
Her hand inched closer to mine
as we laughed at other patrons.
Her sweaty palm ignited what I’d missed.
Something… real.
She had her long, dark ponytail
wrapped around her neck.
Songs played,
but her words drummed
a melody of sincerity.
I excused myself to take a leak;
returned to take a peak;
she’s gone;
the woman left her phone number: 911.
A horn drew my attention to the window,
she’s waiting in the parking lot,
waving me outside.
She’s my heart’s life support.
(© 2022 AC)
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