He sauntered in on music
and dancehall lights.
Coal black cowboy hat
shadowing his knowing eyes.
Ebon jeans hugging his assets.
White shirt starched across his chest.
… and the scent of Lagerfeld
teasing along my spine.
Alan Jackson (or was it Garth Brooks)
was crooning love - or sex - or maybe a leaving song
as he smiled at me.
I can’t remember
because it all faded into the whirl
of line dancers
and drunken cowboys
trying to pick up the pretty girls
who weren’t cute enough an hour ago.
I was tequila washed
cherry lipped
wrapped up in a passable package.
But I wasn’t looking for midnight fumbles
and even I could tell TROUBLE when I saw it.
He smiled hello;
bought me a drink.
made me feel more than I had in years;
as we Two-Stepped around the truth.
He promised passion
with every word that whispered along my skin.
With the warm fingers
that enveloped my hand
and danced on my bare shoulder.
We polkaed past midnight ~ one
as we hunted each other
between the harmonies
He flirted a few good ones.
…I wasn’t gone enough to fall for slick lines.
But those eyes
I could loose my soul
in his eyes.
Too quickly the hours waned.
Closing time was upon us.
I leaned close ready
(as I’d never been ready)
to answer his need.
His kiss filled me with promise
pooled in places I’d forgotten.
~ or never really knew ~
My world was swirling
in “last call”
…and he was gone.
Patricia Gibson~Williams
Author notes
My humble attmept. Not sure if I captured how meaningful this moment was to me.
In a list
A contest entry
- Some Skin in the Game by Heart Sutra.
2200 points, ended June 19, 15 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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Ah, yeah, the kiss of a stranger. Excellent entry.
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Oooo ... I know just how meaningful it was!!! Makes me long for tequila shots and cowboy shit kickers
You did a wonderful job of capturing that feeling of barroom romance and last chance at the dance madness ... made me remember good times and bad boys 
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"My humble attmept. Not sure if I captured ... this moment"...
Zara asked for "relative surrealism"...surrealism being a sort of semi-awaked state.
Your poem lulled me into the fever and intoxication of the night and then- whoh! an awakening to suddenly find it's all a dream!
Well done!
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Oh I think you textured this just right, plays out quite the scene here and filled with eager love and hopefulness
C
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