First thing

By Jon Hillenbrand In Poetry

two pelicans

When I enter the restaurant, the lights dim slightly and a spot light shines on me as diners clink to an unplanned halt mid-sentence…  The silence ends as the piano player restarts his song from somewhere in the middle, and the bartender nervously avoids my glance having remembered our last meeting in Barcelona.  My tailored white tuxedo top glows orange as I produce a perfectly lit zippo for the supermodel who was just pecking a fresh cigarette against her gold case with gloved fingers while perched at the bar.  Reporters approach me with their cricket-like charm but are ushered away by the efficient bouncers who nod at me as they pass.  You might notice me surveying the room as I pause to squint at the bald squat man in the corner caressing an unshaven jaw.  I look past him and see you there alone at the table, your undersized sequin purse a perfect match for your appropriate cocktail dress.  The music rises as you lift your chin to me, the room circles in a radiant blur and the music sizzles tinny as we lock eyes.  Our two spotlights merge as I walk to you and say those magic words…

What do you think?