The Dinner Date

It was simply dinner at Pierre's.
Dinner, a little food, some French jazz,
Mood lights, just dinner like he said.
No pressure, no end game, no
Invest my complete soul for the first 20 minutes
Memorising his hands and the skillful way he articulated everything.

Pierre's flat was not accidentally thrown together,
It was not some mash up of,
Quick buys to achieve a contemporary look.

No, every article, from the dining table,
To the small Mexican gods keeping watch
On the window with that stunning view of the lake,
Had meaning,
Had been considered,
Was placed for maximum effect.

The art work on the walls was classy
Sultry, soft bare flesh, faceless subjects -
Meant to signal this Alpha male knew about women
That the female visitor,
Invited for dinner
Would be having a feast of subliminal input.

The muted tones,
The pricey sound system
That first prize smile.

Well Pierre,
I've got your number, Monsieur.

But dammit
That low curve
Suggestive smile
Saying he knows how this game will end
That he broke from just as soon as I started to unravel.

The downright arrogance of it all.

Will probably be a moment I may or may not regret.





Poetry by 1LFD
Read 107 times
Written on 2021-06-30 at 19:56

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Steven Riddle
Love the tone and cadence of this. Love the rhythm and impulse.One question: is the comman at the end of the line “It was not some mashup of,” intentional? It changes the way I read the poem and doesn’t seem to be in the vernacular of the rest of the poem. However, I am not master of these nuances and if you intended, I’ll reread with that in mind. Thank you for sharing a truly interesting poem.
2021-07-01