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Mar 25, 2013

"All In A New York Minute " (II) - poem by Alex Poulos

All In A New York Minute”

 

“This place is great, really comfortable, I'm just going to get settled in. Time to move on with my life, yes, absolutely. Let it go. Seriously.” This was the last few words I said to myself. Then, I woke up. The cold sweat on my forehead, my heart beating like it was a club baseline in my body; exhales declining in speed with my eyelids lifting. It was only a dream. The clock had been reset and was wailing out too the world telling me to “get up”, even though it was only 2AM, but, what I thought to be a clock was another man's watch. My eyes were glossed over, as I realized I was sleeping in the Bar Booth with what was once an ice cold shot glass.

The waitress approached me, as her skin tan had looked darker in the lighting of the modern bar. For what it lacked in originality had payed homage to it's influences; The Flamingo that of which resides in Las Vegas. The waitress wore a cute but metro outfit and had came by to collect my drink. “Oh, would you like another one, sir?” She smelled of beautiful couture and had black hair. The way she looked at me, she seemed uncomfortable as I saw her the other night with different color wearing different color contact lenses. “I'd like 2 more shots”, finishing the sentence, I gave her the crisp $100 bill in my worn, rough pocket.

She came back with both drinks and the left over money from the bill. “Here you go, sir”, before she began to give me my change, I calmly interrupted, “-Why does someone so beautiful like you wear different color contacts? I've seen you without them on before; has anyone ever said to you how beautiful they are? Why hide them?” Her face turned rose red as if she was upset, but her vibe was warm as she presented herself so shy, replying, “Well, I-I don't know, I-thank-” I interjected again, “What's your name? I see you working so hard here, and I know you're not much older than me, what are you doing in a place like this?” “Well, I'm going to school, but on the side, I'm a waitress and I bust tables.” She had replied with humbleness, the look on her face – I then said, “Please, sit for a minute, talk with me. Also, don't worry about the change; I don't care what your boss says, keep the $60 for yourself, just sit down and talk with me for 5 minutes.”

She was speechless, and shocked that some random guy gave her a large tip and complimented her from out of the blue, but I could feel it, she was nervous, but calm, knowing I was being kind. She sat down across from me on the faux suede used on the back of the booth seats. “What is it that you really want to do?” I asked. She went on telling me her story of how she wanted to be a psychologist, and helping people. As she continued and we batted off of each other's humorous comments; she also started to get more comfortable. The talk went on, and lasted 30 minutes, as she asked me about my life. The time felt like an illusion, and the lights highlighted her beauty, as her pearly white teeth started to peek from behind her beautiful, full lips.

She moved over near me, and kissed my cheek, then whispered in my ear, “Thank you for making me smile.” Then, kissed me on the lips. Just before she left, she wrote down her name and number for me on the thick, newspaper near the table edge. With one wink, she was gone. I looked on the paper, the writing started to fade and dissolve in my hand, as the pen ink dripped in my palm. The room shifted and was gone, all in a New York minute.

Posted via email from We're All A Bit Insane Here

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