poem of the day 09.15.15

outplayed

portia

walks with me from class to hillman library

as snow turns to rain

spring

i swear it takes too long to get here

and when it does i long for the winter

portia says she has two jobs

one waitressing one bartending

she knows the world about beer

porters and stout and lagers and pilsners

ipas and a swiss white chocolate beer

that sounds like hell

i tell her as long as it’s cold and frothy

but she doesn’t laugh

she stops me in all seriousness

we stand under my umbrella

says, have you ever had a flaming dr. pepper?

close red lipstick lip almost whispered in my ear

like she’d say, let’s just run away from all of this

it’s made with amaretto

i’ll make you one if you ever come down

the sharper edge on friendship avenue

aussie’s on liberty avenue

and i can’t tell her that i was in there

last saturday night

have those bars emblazoned in my mind

calvin and i amidst aging night owls

violet-white neon light

meeting steve to drive off to wherever

rustic shinny wood with a long bar

round wood tables and girls galore

but no portia

and at midnight on the lord’s day

i’m sitting drunk in anthony’s gentleman’s club

more half-naked women dry humping poles

for my hard-earned dollar

portia stops me again and lifts up her shirt a little

pierced belly button under my umbrella

she’s sunburned from a tanning salon

says, this hurts so fucking much

but like a good catholic boy

i make sure

not to look.