Pink Flirtations

She sat at the far end of the room, decked in pink
Her eyes directed at the floor, her face locked in a contemplative smile
And with a sudden, graceful twist of her head,
Punctuated by the soft bounce in her hair as she swung around,
She was facing me, staring directly into my eyes,
Dangling her empty glass from her petite, white fingers.

Like a wildebeest urged on by the need to cross the river,
I venture forth despite the loud snaps of crocodiles at my feet.
Recognizing her drink, I swiftly order a cosmopolitan at the bar
And point the bar keep in her direction.
With a few last minute preparations, I produce the lamest line
And practice it in my head a couple hundred times before finally arriving

In front of her, I muster a simple, “Hi, what’s your name? ”
And she replies “No names, No names”
And takes the drink I just bought her in one swig with her right hand
While taking my arm with her left
And we take to the dance floor clasped tightly in each other’s arms
Like mad lovers alone in grassy fields of infinite privacy

In the heat of the moment, in the heat of the night,
Our lips clasp in the most passionate kiss
A kiss only strangers can afford to give
Her lips leave mine and travels up my cheek
And she softly nibbles my ears before whispering
“Thank you, goodbye”

Poetry Hound 27 January 2006

Judy is right. The sexiness of it is wonderful. 'Our lips clasp in the most passionate kiss' - yes indeed.

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jonni o 26 January 2006

Great poem. I really like the intrigue and sexiness of it. j.

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