one night at charley’s

She was looking for someone
In this lonely dark bar called “Charley’s.”
She didn’t know who exactly until
She saw him.

He was a large white-haired man
In a suit. He smoked a cigar
And looked up from his glass
When she entered.

She could still see the lingering
Of deep contemplation
That clung to his round face
Like the ashtray smell of smoke
That soured his breath.

She went over to him
Casually
And she asked if the tie he wore
Was a father’s day present.

“No.” he replied
Smiling a familiar smile
And gently caressing
The back of her thigh.
His stubby fat fingers slid
Between her inner thighs and
Guided her to his lap.

They had been intimate before.
He wasn’t bad as she recalled;
He was proof that
“Looks can be deceiving.”
She knew he could not be trusted.
He was an agent too,
An agent, but not on
Her side.

They kissed straight through
What seemed like
Three Frank Sinatra albums
In the privacy of the smoky
Back room.
Thinking she was distracted
By the heat of
The moment, he
Reached for the gun
She had stashed in my skirt’s inner pocket
Slowly… slighly…
So she wouldn’t notice.

“Uh, uh, uh,” she said
In her best mommy-scolding-son voice.
He withdrew his hand and
Resumed the game again
This time employing
Other more powerful
Imprinting techniques to seduce
And subdue her.

He was very good she must admit
And it wasn’t until the gun was
Half-way out of her pocket that
She realized where she was
And what he was doing.

He had his hand on the butt
Of the gun.
She placed her hand on his
Hand gently and said
“Let go.”
He didn’t move.
“Let go.”
She said in the same stern voice.
Slowly he withdrew
Again.

In one smooth motion she
Stood up, reached in her pocket,
Spread my legs,
Cocked, aimed, and fired.
His chest bloomed in a yellow
Flame like a California poppy.
His eyes,
Looked so hurt
Like the eyes of a
Scolded puppy-dog.
Disbelief spread across his face
As slowly as his blood
Spread across his shirt.

She went back over to him and
Guided herself into his lap.
She reached down,
Slowly moving my hand
Down his hairy
Fleshy stomach.

He was still erect
And ooed as
She slid his penis into
her again.

As he took his last breath,
His eyes rolled back
Into his fading mind,
He jerked and moaned,
And for the last time
He smiled.

BD 1992

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