Pouting in Panama City

Best man in Panama, padding about by a
Pool, in doubt, disliked by bride and groom,
Too hot, not living the life the brochure had
Shown, and, here alone, I claim a slimy
Plastic chair and close my eyes. Who's
There? Surprise. A precious, coffee-colored,
Nearly naked thing, alone as I, who wisely
Will not meet my eyes. My mind assembles
Useful lies to offer her. She also lies and,
Soon unconscious, doesn't stir. Time up,
Baked, I take my leave of her. I dress,
Depressed, and grab a cab to reach the
Chapel, late. I wait, the bride and groom
Unseen. I curse them both, and priest,
And ring until I hear the doors, and turn,
And see, now dressed, said lovely thing.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 18 times
Written on 2011-12-03 at 15:27

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