Straight, with Chaser
Dearest, sweetest Cadi. I was, alas,
the middle-aged pot-bellied barfly
whose gin-jointed knees weakened
at the sight of the willowy young
mixologist. I miss your hips bouncing
and swaying to Patsy's velvet croon
of "Walkin' after Midnight" on the Red
Hat jukebox. I miss your brass-knuckled
laughter, your unmistakably Bawstin
voice, balm to all my inner wounds.
Do I miss the drinks? Not really,
but they did bring me closer to you.
I'd love to see you again someday.
I imagine a chance MBTA encounter
or a serendipitous North End hello,
fancy meeting you here, and so on.
Maybe it's not in the cards. Anyhow.
Just wanted to say I'm thinking of you.
Poetry by Thomas D
Read 24 times
Written on 2021-02-13 at 01:48
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