Because we all want to write more poems.
A Moment
One wet November night
I was waiting to meet my girlfriend
On the Venice Beach Boardwalk
The buskers had
Put away their drums
To huddle around driftwood fires
While the surf thumped
A bass line in the fog
Beyond the streetlights
Pacing and clapping my arms
To beat the chill from them
I noticed a little bistro
Where a lady in
Faded black high tops
With a body like
Olive Oyle and an accent
Like Hercule Poirot
Made crepes to order
It was amicably warm and
Tatty in there
Card tables, paper plates
And a tinny boom box playing
Incongruous pop songs
I bellyed up, tucked in,
and spent my last twenty dollars
On Crêpes de Poulet and
Cheap Champagne
That was nineteen eighty-five
The girlfriend cheated
I froze her out
We both moved on
The little crepe place is long gone
And yet even now
I see, I hear, I taste
The crisp, browned edges
Of that perfect confection,
Steaming bechamel dripping
From my fork,
Champagne bubbles fizzing into ether
Like the money I should have
Saved for the phone bill
It was just a moment
A tale with no special plot
Except the ageless one
About cold and warm
Hunger and food
Love and loss
And the sly charm of
Basketball sneakers
- Michael Mayhew's Shared Poems
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Comments
Neil McKay
October 28, 2012
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Great imagery here.
Great imagery here.
I especially like "the crisp browned edges of that perfect confection" and "a tinny boom box".
I also loved the twist that it was in 1985 and your foreshadowing that with the boom box reference.
Michael Mayhew
October 28, 2012
Permalink
thanks!
Hi Neil - I've been enjoying your poetry since last January. There was a longish period where Jenny was working out the kinks in the registration process and sometimes it was frustrating - not so much because I was dying to write and share poems, but because one of you would write something smart or funny or touching and I wanted to remark but, at that point, couldn't. So I'm glad you saw some merit in this one, and I'm extra glad that I can say likewise moving forward.