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Friday, April 24, 2015

That Dreaded Question

You were the cool
but eminently approachable
dark-haired ambidextrous biker gal
at my now-ex-girlfriend's birthday dinner
that sublime July night
of moderate heat
at Christopher's in Porter Square.

Nursing a ginger ale
or some such drink of dampened effervescence,
you made bold to ask me
That Dreaded Question.
"So! What do you do?"

Intuitively I knew
you were a woman
of capacious sympathy
and of generous understanding.
Therefore, I answered candidly:
"I'm a poet and a curmudgeon
and a sluggard."

Your smile (oh, bless├Ęd soul!)
was warmer than a kiss.
You raised your glass
in gladsome salute:
"Dude! More power to you! Cheers!"

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