7400
There was a cashier whom worked at the grocery
Her name tag read Kelly, but her identity was a mystery.
Whom is she? So sweet and cute, I see from aisle 3.
With a white blouse and navy bow-tie to complement her blonde hair and blue eyes.
She and I were fast to make it, but slow to get it.
The consequence of what was beget.
I had an interest to take her on a date.
To a coffee shop or slice of pizza
Alas, she craved neither.
It is an immature mockery,
The pimps and debonair with flair
Who grimace with a tooth pick and fedora, thirsty for an affair.
Enticing the senses with tempura instead of tempera
Collecting one-night stands like momentos and relics.
They suggest, parlay and roll in the hay.
Gentlemen callers who ignite the coals yet extinguish old flames-
Who prey on the actress who appeal to the bishop.
Crunch the numbers, it is not worth a tinkers' damn.
But I'm the beggar choosing this madame.
Digging a ditch deeper than a building a dam.
I'd drop the formal clothes and hop the high note.
For the sex afforded a euphoric climax, but it was merely a footnote.
Itching to be the pen that composed an interlude, she and I wrote.
The resolution and coda of a bittersweet concierto.
Not a one hit-wonder. An acclaimed blunder, but she don't even care though.
Copyright 2014, Keith Fuchs all rights reserved.
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