dedalus Posted October 30, 2009 Share Posted October 30, 2009 (edited) The silkily enchanting Rosie Pollito sidled, no she sashayed into my life at 7.28 pm on a rainy Wednesday when she slid into the seat beside me at Ben's Diner with a brave little smile and a shake of her blonde curls. I gagged on my Salisbury steak, fries on the side, and tried not to look too Italian. Buona sera. I mean, of course, such a wonderful evening. She eyed the rain pounding against the windows but said nothing, extracting a cigarette from her purse. Sir, could you give me a light, she said. Sir! Madonna! This vision of loveliness shows me respect! I fumble desperately for a lighter then call out for matches smiling graciously all the while, yet remembering Dio Mio! to hide the snaggled tooth on the left side, a hideous thing, I know, something must be done. Do you mind terribly if I smoke? I don't mind if you burn I thought wildly, as long as you can burn for me. I am lonely, I am lonely. Women don't usually talk to me. You're kinda cute, she said, words I will always treasure. Say, would you offer a girl a cup of coffee? Offer, offer? I would go out and grow the beans under a scorching sun, harvest them lovingly, grind them between my fingers, choose the purest spring waters and bring matters to a boil! There is sadness in her eyes, a sadness I can cause to pass, a sidelong glance: rounded and springy her quite ample ass. Say, what's the matter with your mouth? Is nothing, is nothing! Thanks for the coffee, Sir, 'fraid I gotta go. Working girl! Working girl? What is working girl? I rise and kiss her hand. She is tall, taller than me, she smiles, she kisses me on the cheek. Me! She kisses! On the cheek, my cheek, she, this woman kisses me! With a wave she disappears into the Chicago night. It was 7.49. It was the seventh of September, 1963. I am an old man now but never will I forget those moments. They warm my frozen heart. Edited October 30, 2009 by dedalus Quote Drown your sorrows in drink, by all means, but the real sorrows can swim Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Lake Posted October 30, 2009 Share Posted October 30, 2009 (edited) Enjoyed this immensely, dedalus. All those Ssss sound at the beginning, I hear a lady walking by, or waltzing by. The things the narrator did or would do for her, fumbling for a lighter, growing the beans... sound authentic. Who wouldn't expect this kind of "brief encounter" that one will remember all his life? Hearfelt, indeed. You write abut something ordinary into something extraordinary, with ease! PS: What is Italian look by the way? Lake Edited October 30, 2009 by Lake Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
dedalus Posted October 31, 2009 Author Share Posted October 31, 2009 Lake writes: PS: What is Italian look by the way? Che cosa? A shrug of the shoulders, a smile from liquid brown eyes, maybe a shabby old suit but snazzy shoes, always snazzy well-polished shoes. Thanks for the other comments. 99% of life consists of ordinary things. That's where the action takes place. D. Quote Drown your sorrows in drink, by all means, but the real sorrows can swim Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
waxwings Posted November 1, 2009 Share Posted November 1, 2009 Excellent writing. I will stay up for hours trying to figure if this is a poem, a mini drama or poetic prose and then decide: does it really matter. Thanks for a delightful read. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
tonyv Posted November 3, 2009 Share Posted November 3, 2009 The slight modicum of naivety in the narrator is believable, explicable -- I am lonely, I am lonely. Women don't usually talk to me and, thus, is quite charming. It's by no means exaggerated: he's self-conscious -- I fumble desperately for a lighter then call out for matchessmiling graciously all the while, yet remembering Dio Mio! to hide the snaggled tooth on the left side, a hideous thing, I know, something must be done -- and he's aware of her attributes: There is sadness in her eyes, a sadness I can cause to pass,a sidelong glance: rounded and springy her quite ample ass. But the reader is tipped off as to her own unsophisticated sophistication only a moment before she reveals her avocation: Say, what's the matter with your mouth? Is nothing, is nothing!Thanks for the coffee, Sir, 'fraid I gotta go. Working girl! Working girl? What is working girl? I rise and kiss her hand. A cute anecdote, Brendan, this one made me smile from beginning to end. Tony Quote Here is a link to an index of my works on this site: tonyv's Member Archive topic Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Tinker Posted November 9, 2009 Share Posted November 9, 2009 Brennan, No one tells a tale like you! Bravo! ~~Tink Quote ~~ © ~~ Poems by Judi Van Gorder ~~ For permission to use this work you can write to Tinker1111@icloud.com Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Aleksandra Posted November 19, 2009 Share Posted November 19, 2009 I can't say much more than the others Bren. This was excellent. I enjoyed so much. Bravo from me too. Aleksandra Quote The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth - Jean Cocteau History of Macedonia Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Recommended Posts
Join the conversation
You can post now and register later. If you have an account, sign in now to post with your account.
Note: Your post will require moderator approval before it will be visible.