Cimmerian
12-05-2015, 08:46 AM
Pea coated December, scarves and the sweaters
A kaleidoscope colored crowd packed all together
I’m fettered within—cuffed to a beer and a grin
Paul Revering the revelry here with my friends
Records spin, women turn leaves on the wind—
Weaving with my limbs, never to see them again
Holiday season I guess, while stealing a breath—
There’s a sweat booze cigarette feel to the scent
Ignored the odor, ordered a vodka and soda—
For a long blonde begonia from Minnesota
Sort of laughed and gabbed, talked Malbecs and Cabs
Would you like to dance? She used to . . . tap and jazz
As we slide on the floor smooth ivory chords—
Beg me to dip her, our dance steps paint a picture
Raphael'd for a spell until the moment in time—
Finds us all Auld Lang Syne bodies entwined
Lips twist licorice, her tongue cools as it enters
One hand through my hair, her spare pulls at my Windsor
Must she lust a last one night stand, Colonel Custer?
My palms play catch up, her body cuts the mustard
Cab lights glide through the black city grid
Like firefly nights—those Julys as a kid
But I’m a man with a plan, to Ma’am, the game’s over
Until we semi-sober roll over with our hangovers.
A kaleidoscope colored crowd packed all together
I’m fettered within—cuffed to a beer and a grin
Paul Revering the revelry here with my friends
Records spin, women turn leaves on the wind—
Weaving with my limbs, never to see them again
Holiday season I guess, while stealing a breath—
There’s a sweat booze cigarette feel to the scent
Ignored the odor, ordered a vodka and soda—
For a long blonde begonia from Minnesota
Sort of laughed and gabbed, talked Malbecs and Cabs
Would you like to dance? She used to . . . tap and jazz
As we slide on the floor smooth ivory chords—
Beg me to dip her, our dance steps paint a picture
Raphael'd for a spell until the moment in time—
Finds us all Auld Lang Syne bodies entwined
Lips twist licorice, her tongue cools as it enters
One hand through my hair, her spare pulls at my Windsor
Must she lust a last one night stand, Colonel Custer?
My palms play catch up, her body cuts the mustard
Cab lights glide through the black city grid
Like firefly nights—those Julys as a kid
But I’m a man with a plan, to Ma’am, the game’s over
Until we semi-sober roll over with our hangovers.