dreary, and through the listless haze
of commotion,
in smoky showrooms
where all things beam
in voluptuous spotlights,
the delayed boom of deafening speakers
drowns out
bystanders and colleagues alike.
louder yet,
pounding between your eardrums,
wandering forward
towards another inviting smile:
old-fashioned
medicine taken by mouth.
the world appears as you do,
worse for wear,
where your eyes meet hers;
worse,
you meet her.
she needs a lighter,
you have a lighter.
it was meant to be.
small talk between the cracks
of the permissive wall of noise
between you.
only the important things permit,
and then she asks you
what happens next.
you roam aimlessly
through gift shops and casinos
and dimly lit hallways,
empty and breathing,
when you find an oriental passage,
dimly lit,
furnished and ornate,
mellow and melancholy.
you let yourself be wrapped
in this atmosphere.
the slowest song paced leisurely along.
the song had no genre.
each tap of the xylophone
was an evocative note,
each pluck of the bass string was
another strand of the story.
the air hums solemnly beside.
“your drink, sir.”
that headache is gone now
and you’re slipping into something
a bit more comfortable.
no.
you’re falling into something.
your eyes meet hers again.
you don’t even know her name.
what happens next?
© JD Jurado 2019 all rights reserved
#poems #poetry #creativewriting #Mondaymoods #GoodMorningMonday
Verbalchemy 