Cool Pool On A Hot Day…prose poem

in Prose Poems

You sipping citrus flavored water, I’m damping down the obligatory bourbon …post heel and toe shopping… late luncheon at R.L.’s. Think that hot ass Ferragamo pump sums the smart business casual I query, stabbing a shrimp swimming in Bombay Gin Cocktail Sauce. You tease back with a tart wink. Disarmed, I attack my Polo Club. You nibble your Lobster Roll. I broach the why of the poach of your crustacean. You’re having none of that. Nor a dessert. But the flirt continues. Three decades in. And you suggest a detour. To an old haunt rumored to still sport a regulation size table. Over dressed, the bar understocked, and a generation removed, you wow all the youngins’ when you two rail the eight ball.

I’m spry yet retired. I reside in the inner city of a major metropolitan area of the United States. I read politics. I watch baseball. I hum along with the tune. I June swoon, and moon the bad poem. Post here, are old and new. Opinions are my very own, except when wrong.

Latest from Prose Poems

Vox Pop

The Grid vibes Old Testament. Too tabularly tribal. Too personal. Too punishing.
Go to Top
%d bloggers like this: